Chosen One
by Meg Storm
Summary: When the world is in need, the Chosen One awakens. The one master of all. In a time where war is brewing, where men's hands are stained with blood, she is brought to heal the earth's wounds. To save the past, is to save the future. Galahad/OC R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, ideas for stories have been plaguing me lately, so I finally caved and started typing them! This is one of two new fics for King Arthur****. **

**BETA work done by my wonderful friend, Miss **_**princesspomegranate**_**, who is a fantastic writer and always very supportive. I strongly recommend you go check out her stories, if you haven't done so already. (: **

**Thank you so much for dropping in, I hope you enjoy this first chapter and let me know what you thought, good or bad (:**

_**. : Chosen One : .**_

**. : Chapter one : .**

The current situation was questionable, to say the very least. One minute, I was suffering through the twice weekly rehearsal of our school play, and the next…

Well, this.

I gazed out at the picture-perfect scene laid out before me, my eyes taking in every detail greedily. Lush, green grass seemed to stretch on forever ahead of me. It swayed and bowed as one with the soft, cool breeze that also caught strands of my hair and pulled them free of the pins that held them back. Trees, so thick I could barely see through them, ran behind and either side of me, perfectly framing the expanse of sloping openness.

I'd never seen anything like it before in my life. Well, apart from on TV, but that hardly counted.

I took a deep breath and fresh, crisp air filled my lungs. I was sure that air had never tasted so good. Somewhere not far ahead of me, I could hear the beautiful sound of running water, but I couldn't see it. The landscape wasn't flat, but rather dotted with little hills, so I assumed that the water was probably behind the closest one. I could always sense when water was near, it was my element, my strength.

I pursed my lips and frowned in thought. It looks like I've fallen asleep and am dreaming. Again.

Smirking to myself as I contemplated the reaction my prim and proper drama teacher would have to this outrage, I giggled. This wasn't the first time I'd fallen asleep during rehearsals; far from it. It wasn't _my_ fault it was boring enough to put people to sleep.

It was the same story every year. Ms Fulgsang (and I kid you not, that really is her name) has an unhealthy addiction to Shakespeare, so the plays we do are _always_ one of his. This year's was 'The Tragedy of Julius Caesar'. Much to my disgust, I had been cast as Calpurnia, Caesar's wife. So I had to be present at every rehearsal, whether we were practising any of my scenes or not.

I took a step forward, tripped and tumbled to my hands and knees.

"Ah, crap."

I scowled down at this bloody dress and its ridiculously long skirts as I got back to my feet.

"Couldn't I have dreamed _you_ away?" It was my costume and general biggest nuisance, since I couldn't walk three steps without tripping over it and landing flat on my face.

The traditional- or so I was told- floor length spaghetti strap monkey suit could probably have three feet of material cut off the end of it, and it'd still touch the damn floor. It was the most horrible shade of baby pink I'd ever seen, and had gold and pink flowers and vines embroidered down the full length of it, starting from the straps. And a gold, almost Celtic-looking, twisted belt tied just under my chest area.

I didn't like it.

It was also heavy, since there were about five layers to it.

I glared down my body at it.

"Dress, be gone!"

... Nothing. Rats. Since when do I not have control over my own subconscious?

I jumped when a horse whinnied to my left, and I whirled around to look in the direction it had come from. What was this bloody dream doing now? Please, oh _please_ don't let it be a dream of unicorns and midgets...

**A/N: Well, intro chapter up. I know, I know it's another '**_**from the future'**_** fics that are despised…but it was eating at me! I had to write it! *Hides* **

**Pretty please with sugar on top review! It will be truly appreciated (: **

**~Meg xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Afternoon, lovely readers (: I hope this finds you all well. I have to thank you all so much for the positive reaction I got to the first chapter. ^.^ All the ****reviews, hits and alerts are really very inspiring. Keep it up! Lol :D**

**Thank you so very much to **_**SasoLOVE111, penniah **_**and**_** princesspomegranate **_**for the reviews! **

**And also hugs'n'kisses to **_**princesspromegranate **_**for BETAing for me ^.^ **

**Hope you enjoy this one!**

**. : Chapter 2 : .**

Three days of solid riding and nothing had happened. Absolutely nothing, no Woads, no bandits…_nothing_. Even the arguments, which normally had the Commander of the Sarmatian Knights tempted to fall on his sword, were surprisingly nil.

Arthur was half-inclined to think that if he relished in the calm and good moods of his men, the world might suddenly go up in flames. This had never happened before. Never. There was always _something. _Even Galahad, who could complain about _anything_, was…not so much silent, but happy.

He was sure it had to be some sort of joke.

"Arthur!"

His second in command and best friend snapped his fingers in front of the half-Roman, half-Britain's face with a grin. "Off with the fairies, eh?"

Arthur smiled and shook his head, dark curls falling past his emerald eyes. "Nay, Lancelot. Just thinking how this peace we find ourselves in cannot last."

"Always lookin' on the bright side, you are," rumbled the muscle of the group, Bors. "Just enjoy it, man!"

"Quiet, the lot of you. If you jinx it and Woads suddenly fall from the sky, I _will_ hit you first," the golden haired Knight, Gawain, laughed.

Arthur grinned and held up a hand in a gesture of peace. "I won't say another word."

His men laughed. Their attentions were changed, however, when Bors' black charger pricked his ears attentively, and after a moment, he let out a shrill whinny at what he'd seen.

"Quiet, you," Bors patted his stallion's neck affectionately. "If that bastard Gawain hits you with that axe o' his, I'll be forced to beat 'im to a pulp."

"I'd like to see you try. It'll take your fat arse a week to get out of that saddle. Unless you fall, of course." Gawain snickered at him, mischief shinning in his blue eyes.

As Bors opened his mouth to retaliate, the two silent men, Dagonet and Tristan, shot their commander annoyed looks while Lancelot and Galahad laughed.

Arthur rolled his eyes at his men, dismissing the scathing look he got from his deadly scout as Tristan rode between the playfully squabbling pair. The commander turned his attention to what Bors' horse had seen. With a good deal of squinting against the sunlight, so odd for British weather; he frowned in confusion.

Did that look like a…?

"Men."

At his strongly spoken word, the bickering, laughing group looked up.

"Is that…or am I going mad?"

"I heard Romans are prone t' head problems, I did. Too much…bloody hell!" Bors blinked repeatedly as he finally saw the lone figure in the distance. "What's a bloody woman doin' out 'ere?"

"Woman?" Lancelot perked, urging his stallion forward a few paces to get a better look. "So it is!"

He grinned, "This must be my lucky day, rescuing a damsel in distress instead of a slobbering Roman Lord."

"And if she's a Woad?" Gawain asked, unimpressed. "You'll need saving when she hands you your balls on a spear."

"Nonsense," the infamous womaniser snorted. "I have a way with the ladies. You should know- I take all yours!"

Dagonet rolled his eyes at the familiar discussion.

"Last time I checked," he said softly, breaking up Gawain's nasty retort. "Woads didn't wear Roman attire."

Galahad leaned forward in his saddle, and asked, "What's a Roman woman doing out here, without an escort?"

"One way to find out," Arthur replied, nudging his great white steed into a steady canter.

The others quickly followed him. When they came within a few metres of the woman, who on closer inspection was really only a girl, they slowed back to a walk.

She stood facing them, arms folded across her chest and head tilted slightly to the side, watching their approach calmly with her sky-blue eyes. She raised an eyebrow questioningly as she looked them over. Arthur bowed his head to her and dismounted.

"My Lady, what are you doing out here? It's not safe for you."

She blinked as if she hadn't quite expected him to talk.

"I…uh…who the hell are you?"

She reached up and tucked a stray chestnut curl behind her ear, which had two little golden hoops through it. Her voice was soft, sweet. Stunned, Arthur, much to his men's amusement, took a moment to form a response.

"I am Artorius Castus, these are my Knights. Lady, where are your guards?"

She hummed, "Odd name. What guards…ooohh."

Her eyes locked on Dagonet's battle axe and shone with awe. "That's the biggest axe I've ever seen! How the hell do you even lift it? And what's with the get up? I wonder how my subconscious cooked up this scenario."

The last bit seemed to have been meant for her ears alone.

"Arthur," Lancelot said and scratched his beard. "I don't think she's all there, in the head, I mean."

"I take offence to that, Sir Knightly-ness," the girl stated, moving her slim hands to her rounded hips, jutting one out in a textbook teenage pose. "You do not know me; therefore, you cannot make assumptions regarding my mental state. For your information, I'm perfectly sane, though sanity _is_ overrated, I don't go around licking windows."

"Ignore Lancelot," Arthur said, smiling at her. "I really do insist that you tell us your reason for being here, though. We will escort you home or back to your escort."

She looked confused again. "Why on earth would I have an escort? I…"She went to walk towards him, but tripped on the long skirts of her dress and tumbled, narrowly being caught by the commander before hitting the ground.

"Damnit!" she growled as she righted herself. "Fucking, good for nothing, goddamned dress! You wouldn't have a knife or a pair of scissors would you?"

"I beg your pardon!"

The Christian-raised man had never heard such language come from a lady, let alone one of noble status like this one obviously was, if the jewels and silk dress were any indication. Even Vanora didn't speak like that, and she was _Bors'_ lover!

"A knife? C'mon, you've got all these big-arse weapons and you don't have a knife?"

She obviously didn't notice his distress, or the others' badly concealed laughter.

Gawain produced a dagger from his belt and held it up. "Whatever would you want one of these for, Lady?"

She picked up her skirts, which ended up being quiet the armful, and bounced over to him, reaching up for the blade.

"I need to do a little... _designing_. Hello, aren't you just gorgeous?"

She smoothed a hand down the horse's neck and plucked the blade from the amused Knight's hand. "Ta."

Hiking the skirts up to around her mid thighs, she took the blade to the weak material and cut off a good portion of the length. Grinning to herself in triumph, the severed material pooled at her feet and the skirt now only just touched the ground. Its edge was jagged, but she didn't seem to care.

"Much better, thank you."

She handed a speechless Gawain back his weapon and looked back to the very red faced commander.

"Is he supposed to be that colour?" she asked, pointing at him.

Lancelot and Bors both laughed loudly, "He ain't used t' seein' ladies legs, lass," Bors cackled. "Ain't proper, an' all, for the well bred sorts."

Lancelot waggled his eyebrows at her, "I think that that skirt could even be a little shorter…"

"Uh huh," she didn't seem to be listening, they noted, as she twirled away from Gawain and started out towards the hill.

"Thanks for all your help; toodles!" she paused as she past Galahad and stoked the nose of his steed lovingly. "Goodbye, beautiful…" Frowning, she leaned down and looked underneath the horse then stood, grinning. "Beautiful boy."

She dropped a feather light kiss to his velvety nose and twirled away. The Knights watched her leave, open-mouthed.

"Did you all see that?" Galahad asked, not taking his eyes from the strange girl. "Romans don't act like that…do they?"

The others shook their heads.

"Boy," Bors broke out into a grin. "I don't think _anyone_ acts like that."

Arthur sighed.

"Well, we can't leave her out here. It'll only be a matter of time before the Woads find her. If she refuses to tell us who she is, she'll just have to come back to the wall with us."

"But Arthur, we've only just begun our mission. She can't come with us," Dagonet said reasonably. "That wouldn't be safe either."

"She is safer _with_ us than without us," the commander said.

He clutched his horse's reins and trailed after the strange girl. The others sighed, but dismounted and followed him all the same.

She was sitting atop the hill when they caught up to her again, her legs dangling over the sharp drop off that stopped about ten feet above a slow moving river. She looked over her shoulder at them and pursed her pink lips.

"Are you still here?" she asked. "What did you want?"

"You're to come with us to Hadrian's Wall, My Lady." Arthur informed her in a tone that left little room for argument.

She narrowed her eyes anyway and replied, "Oh, _am_ I now? And why, pray tell, would I go with you?"

"These woods are crawling with Woads," Galahad told her. "It really isn't safe."

She raised an eyebrow and said, "You're expecting me to be scared of… paint? _Oddest_ dream _ever_." She added in a mutter.

They frowned at her.

"Woads are people, British rebels fighting against the Roman occupation and rule of Britain. They cover themselves in blue war paint made from those flowers, so, we call them Woads…" Arthur explained.

"Ah, well _that_ certainly sounds like a better thing to be scared of," she chuckled, not showing any sign of fear. "Thanks for the heads up, buh-bye."

"Look, lass, good things don't happen to little girls out 'ere," Bors frowned at her. "I don't think your gettin' the point we're puttin' across."

"First of all, I'm _not_ a little girl. Secondly, my hearing is fine and I do understand 'the point you're putting across.' Thirdly, this is just a dream I'm having because my drama teacher picks the most boring plays in the world to put us through. I'll wake up to her yelling soon enough, so you, _dream people_, can all skip back to what you were doing before my subconscious conjured you up."

And with that, she fell back against the grass and closed her eyes.

Lancelot looked to Arthur, "Still think she's not crazy?"

"I 'ave to say, I'm leaning towards siding with 'im this time," Bors added, shaking his head.

"I'm still right here, and I can still hear you," she said without opening her eyes.

"Then hear this, you're mad," the big man replied.

She sighed and sat up, shuffling around so that she was facing them and said evenly, "Alright, this is annoying me now. Even rehearsals are better than being chastised by figments of my own imagination."

She held out her pale arm and pinched the soft flesh on the inside of her elbow. She hissed and winced, looking at the angry red mark she'd made and then back up at the men.

"Bugger," She muttered, and then scrambled to her feet. "Looks like its drastic measures then."

"Drastic measures for what, exactly?" Galahad asked cautiously, watching her as she reached for the ties of her dress and started undoing them.

"For waking myself up, duh."

Pulling her arms free of the dress, she tugged and wriggled it down her shapely body before stepping out of it completely and dropping it into Tristan's arms, since the scout was closest.

Standing in nothing but two mere scraps of material that covered her womanly regions and some kind of strap around her upper right thigh with two things attached to it, the men openly gawked.

She wasn't thin, for sure. But she was rounded in all the right places. And she either didn't notice or didn't care about the stares she was receiving.

"I've changed my mind," Lancelot said, raking his eyes over her appraisingly. "I like her."

"Vanora'll kill me…" Bors muttered.

Without so much as a glance in their directions, the girl gave them the finger. She plucked the two dark objects from their holder and dropped them and her necklace on top of the dress with a smile at Tristan.

"Hold these, will you?"

She reached up and pulled the pins from her neat bun and chestnut curls fell down below her shoulders. She dropped the pins next to the necklace.

"Thanks."

The scout simply raised an eyebrow at her. She grinned, and then darted for the hill top. Before any of them could react, she leapt off the top and pulled her knees to her chest.

"CANON BALL!" she shouted.

Gaping, reins were dropped as the men dashed for the edge, looking over just in time to see her surface.

"Did you wake up?" Gawain yelled down to her, grinning like an idiot as he tried not to laugh.

They had a near naked woman floating around in a river; this was by far the best mission ever. She wiped water from her eyes and glared up at the faces peering down at her.

"What the hell?"

"We'll take that as a no then, shall we?" Lancelot grinned. "Would you like me to come get you?"

"Don't be absurd," she yelled back, already swimming for the edge. Taking a moment to feel the comfort the water provided her.

"My god," she whispered to herself as she touched the river's bottom and walked the rest of the way. Reluctantly, she got out. "What's happening?"

She shivered as the cool wind licked at her dripping form and jogged back up to the weird men. "This isn't right, something's not right…"

"Enjoy your swim, did you?" The older, cocky, dark, curly-headed one smirked as she took the final steps to rejoin them. Lancelot, the one in charge had called him.

She frowned. Lancelot? Her eyes snapped to the boss man in the red cape. What did he call himself? Artorius Castus…Arthur…Lancelot and Arthur?

"…Lancelot?" she asked tentatively, wrapping her arms around herself as another shiver wracked her body.

He grinned and winked at her suggestively while Arthur, _Arthur_, unclasped the rich red cape around his shoulders and came to her, pulling the material around her to dull the cold.

One hand grasped the cape and fisted in the thick, yet soft material while the other went to her forehead. "Now I'm confused…"

"Love, ye just leapt into a river. In the middle of bloody Britain, in the middle of autumn," Bors stared at her, clearly thinking her insane. "I'd say ye were a little more than just _confused_."

"Well I didn't bloody know I was in the middle of bloody Britain in the middle of bloody _autumn_ now did I?" she snapped back, clenching Arthur's cape tighter. "Last time I checked, I was in my school's theatre trying desperately to stay awake. It was Britain, yes, but it was summer…"

She shook her head as if trying to clear it, and muttered, "I'm not dreaming, am I?"

They shook their heads.

"And I suppose that means I'm really here, doesn't it?"

A lot of confirming nods.

"And you're all really real…and I really just did that…and you really just saw me in my underwear…"

Her cheeks went the colour of Arthur's cape.

"Oh _crap_... What are your names?"

"I'm Dagonet, this is Bors, Gawain, Tristan, Galahad and you know Lancelot and our leader, Arthur," the gentle knight supplied, the healer in him starting to worry about how worked up she was getting.

Whether he was worried about her or his brothers, he wasn't sure. Vanora was never safe to be around when she got like this…Not to mention, how she was being exposed to the chill of the wind after having jumped into a river, that couldn't be doing her any favours.

"Oooh…triple shit."

She took a deep breath, and said, "Knights. Real life, _knights_! _The_ knights! Oh my _God_…"

She trailed off as her eyes locked on the sword at Arthur's waist. "So…that's Excalibur?"

Arthur nodded slowly, unsure why she was having this reaction to them. It wasn't uncommon for people to have heard of them, but the way she was reacting was essentially new to him.

With a trembling yet surprisingly fast hand, she pulled the sword from its sheath. It nearly fell from her hands as she underestimated the weight, but she persisted and brought it closer for a better look. "Incredible." She whispered, tracing her fingers over the hilt and down the shinning blade. She hissed as her finger cut open and a trail of crimson blood ran down the steel. _And sharp_. She added to herself as she stuck her cut finger in her mouth.

Arthur cleared his throat uncomfortably. "If we may know your name, My Lady… and may I have my sword back?"

"What? Oh, yeah, name, right…sure."

She still looked rather lost, but held the famous sword out to its owner, hilt first as she replied, "I'm Ariella Gray... What time is it?"

To Ella's utter bewilderment, all the men before her looked up at the sky. _And they think _I'm_ crazy_, she thought bitterly, sucking the blood from the cut.

"Bout lunch time, I reckons," the big, bald and round one laughed.

It was a laugh that came from the belly, and rumbled deeply. She had a fleeting thought of him dressed up as Santa, but dismissed it. He was too mean looking to be Santa. Come to mention it, they were all pretty scary looking, dressed from head to toe in medieval armour with matching, deadly looking weapons.

"No, no," she corrected, eyeing the twin swords in Lancelot's possession, suddenly wary of the company she was in.

Not that she couldn't have defended herself if the situation called for it, but… These were _the_ men from legend. And she was pretty sure that they were badass…

"I mean what _year _is it?"

They frowned at her again, with that look she was coming to recognise to mean that she'd just made an idiot out of herself, again.

"Four hundred and five…" Arthur was the one to answer it.

Her mouth dropped and she stumbled sideways, latching onto Dagonet's arm for support. "F-four hundred and f-five? A-are you sure?"

"Yes?"

"Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Damn it, oh _shit!_" Ella cursed, releasing the Knight she had hold of and pacing back and forth through the lush grass that wasn't as comforting or pretty as it had seemed before. "How…? What…It's impossible! Ah _fuck_!"

She cast a terrified glance at her dress and grimaced. "Miss will _kill_ me! And, Toby's game was this afternoon! _He'll_ kill me! And Mum will kill me, urgh, I'm _so_ dead…"

"Why are all these people going to kill you?" the younger, dark, curly-headed one asked curiously.

"Because…because…they just _will_, okay! Time travelling is…"

She screamed suddenly and jumped behind Gawain. "_SNAKE! KILL IT, KILL IT!" _She gave the blonde knight a shove in the direction of the unaware, sleek black creature leisurely sliding through the grass.

Ella rushed behind Galahad for cover and clutched his arm, peering out from behind his form as Gawain shrugged to his brothers and raised his axe. She cringed and pressed flat against the youngest Knight's back, burying her head in his armoured shoulder. His cheeks burned as, even through his armour, he could still feel the heat radiate off of her, admittedly alluring, body.

Only at the sound of the 'thunk' of Gawain's axe meeting the ground, did she dare to peep. The offending creature was in two pieces, well and truly dead. But then as the nerves kicked in, the longest part flicked and she shrieked again.

"_Hit it again_!"

"Lady, it's quite dead…"

"_It moved! Hit it again!"_

Sighing, Gawain did as she wished and lopped the snake into three pieces. Then he gave each section a good kick with his thick leather boot to remove them from her vision. "There, it's all gone. You can let the boy go, now, before you give him heart failure."

Colour rushed to both their cheeks and she hurriedly released him and stepped back.

"Sorry, I…uh, I'm petrified of snakes…I panic…"

Her face got redder and the flush stretched down her neck and to the tips of her ears.

"It's alright," Dagonet said quietly. "You should see Bors with a spider."

A smile tugged at her lips while the other Roxolani man turned a shade of red that had naught to do with embarrassment. Ella met the tall, quiet man's eyes and mouthed 'thank you' as the others were quickly distracted by teasing their brother-in-arms. Dagonet bowed his head to her.

"Well, as much amusement as this is, we really should be moving. Lady Ariella…"

"Please, Sir Arthur," she blushed again, a lighter, more flattering shade this time. "Just Ella. Or if you really insist on being formal, then Ariella. I'm not a Lady."

He looked a little confused but nodded his consent with a slight smile.

"Ariella, if you would come with us, we'll do our best to keep you safe."

"Thank you, Sirs, I really didn't mean to cause you any grief…this is just…" she trailed off, unable to explain herself.

Arthur held up a hand and said, "We'll have plenty of time to talk later, but now we must be going. Though, you might want to dress…"

Ella looked down at herself, now reasonably well covered and nodded.

"Sounds like a plan… this means that I've got to put that damn dress back on though, doesn't it? Bugger."

"It looks good, if that's what you're worried about."

Galahad could have smacked himself before the sentence had left his mouth. His brothers smirked and coughed to hide their snickers.

Ella smiled at him and laughed softly as she said, "I really don't give a damn what I look like in it, I just hate it. But thank you."

She took the garment from Tristan's outstretched arms with a scowl.

"It's what I get for being a good student, being Julius Caesar's wife!"

"Julius Caesar?" Arthur exclaimed as she turned her back to them and stepped into the dress. "He's been dead for…"

She chuckled, "I'm aware of that, Sir Arthur. It's a play. I was _cast_ as his third wife. Caesar was a ridiculous, power hungry, arrogant fool who died because he failed to listen to good advice, which turned out be true and his wife was right."

She pulled her hair over her shoulder to bare the ties of the dress and asked, "Can one of you do this up, please? Damn thing's easier to get out of then into."

Dagonet, again being closer, assisted her.

She smiled thankfully at him and trotted back to Arthur with his cape.

"It's a bit damp sorry. Thank you, though."

He took it from her hands and shook his head.

"It's alright, one of the men will have a spare you can have. You'll still freeze in that dress."

"See? It's not practical, not _even_ in its own time!" she cursed the damned dress again.

Lifting up her skirts again, she fastened the two black things back to their belt around her thigh.

"I'd like to have a word with you about all this time business that you keep mentioning," Arthur said, slightly suspicious.

She nodded at him, "Alrighty. I'm ready now."

"No, no," Lancelot grinned suggestively at her. "Take your time, I was enjoying it. Why don't you ride with me? I'm sure I can think of a way to warm you up much faster than a cloak…"

There was silence as she stared at him. Everyone waiting to see what she'd do. It was well known Lancelot had great success with women, and he was very rarely denied.

Finally, in a slow voice, she replied, "Are you flirting with me?"

He winked at her and gestured to his horse.

"Please don't. You're like, what? Thirty?" she asked, tilting her head to the side, her practically-dry, chestnut waves flowing like water with the movement.

Lancelot narrowed his eyes.

"I'm twenty-seven."

"I'm seventeen, that's ten years. I don't have relationships with older men," she stated, matter-of-factly. "Not _that_ much older, anyway. Sir Arthur, I give you my word I will cooperate with you completely at all times, _if _you don't make me ride with him."

She jerked her thumb in Lancelot's direction and crossed her arms challengingly.

The men snickered and Arthur shook his head in amusement.

"I agree to your terms, my lady. Why don't you ride with your snake-slaying saviour?"

She beamed; obviously, the sun shone out of Gawain's arse in her books. "Wonderful. So long as he isn't a borderline paedophile like him, then it's all good."

"Peedeo-what?" Lancelot asked, confused at they moved back to their horses.

Ella trailed after Gawain to his white charger, "Paedophile: someone who fancies children."

"I do not fancy children!"

"I'm close enough to a child."

"But you're not! There's a difference!"

She laid a hand on the white's nose as Gawain mounted, tilting her head at the glaring second in command. She smiled.

"I can tell we're gonna have a lot of arguments, Sir Lancelot. I look forward to it."

He snorted.

"Why on earth would you think that? Crazy girl."

"Ah, so _now_ I'm a girl, am I?" she grinned, enjoying this.

"Since you insist on acting like one; yes."

"Oh, _I'm_ acting childishly?" she smirked at his slightly pouty and brooding expression. "_I'm_ not the one that's sulking."

He humphed and mounted.

Shaking her head, Ella repeated her actions with Galahad's horse and checked underneath this one. "Hiya, boy. Aren't you handsome?"

Gawain laughed at her.

"I'll save you the trouble, they're all stallions. Except Tristan's, he's a gelding." He held a hand down for her to take.

"A gelding is a…"

She cut Dagonet off with a smile.

"A de-sexed stallion, I know."

Taking Gawain's hand and lifting her skirts high enough to allow her free movement, she put her left foot atop of his in the stirrup and, as he lifted, she swung up behind him.

**A/N: Chapter 2, done and dusted (: Hope you all enjoyed it. I know she appears a little loopy at the start, but, she was honestly convinced she was dreaming. Makes me wonder what her dreams are like…but anywho lol. **

**As most of you know by now, I'm moving. And it's kinda taking up a lot of my time. And once we've moved, we won't have internet straight away, so I can't really tell you for sure when the next chapter will be up. I never know the what's happening until its happening lol. I'm guessing we'll be leaving in the next 3-4 days though. So when I suddenly drop off the radar, you'll know why lol. For updates on what's happening, check my profile. I'll try to let you guys know as soon as I do.**

**Now that the news it out of the way, please **_**review **_**and let me know how it's going!**

**~Meg xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello Lovelies! Sorry about the wait, been busy **_**again**_**. I have exams coming up and I've been away working and will be again next week. Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy this one!**

**Thank you **_**SasoLOVE111, princesspomegranate, mmMmm, Lady Marek **_**and **_** Vermilion Fire **_**for their totally awesome reviews. It's great to hear you guys are enjoying it :) **

**Gracias princesspomegranate for BETAing **

**. : Chapter 3 : .**

_If this all turns out to be some kind of joke..._ Ella thought with a scowl as she shifted behind Gawain, _again_, in a futile attempt to get half way comfortable. ..._Someone _will_ die a long and excruciatingly painful death. _

"You alright there, girl?" The blonde knight asked her, as her grip on his body shifted once again.

She just couldn't seem to sit still.

"Fine," she muttered back, wondering momentarily if she could ask him to stop. It was the dress' fault, yet again. Sitting on a horse's arse was uncomfortable enough at the best of times, but doing it now with several layers of petticoats and horse hair tickling her bare legs…well, it just wasn't nice. "S'just uncomfortable is all."

"Ah…sorry."

She chuckled and patted his armour-clad arm. "It's not your fault, silly dolt. Have you ever tried riding in a dress?" _Now I know why side saddle was invented, _she mused.

Gawain shook his head, grinning though she couldn't see it. "Can't say I have."

"Lucky you."

"You could always take the dress off…" Lancelot called to her with a smirk, having recovered from their little spat.

Ella noticed that she and Gawain were in the centre of the group, with another of the Knights each way of them. It was touching, though in a slightly annoying kind of way. But they didn't know she could defend herself; they all seemed to think that she was some noble Roman daughter. It was almost amusing.

She arched an eyebrow at the flirtatious Knight.

"Unless you wish to take a dip in the next lake we come across, Sir, I suggest you bite your tongue."

"Leave the lass alone, Lance," Bors grinned. "She obviously ain't interested, an' I don't fancy listenin' to 'er complain about ye for the rest o' the week."

"She could very well change her mind, Bors." Lancelot smirked, shooting a look at their frowning guest. "Women are prone to doing that."

Ella flipped him off. "Not this woman. Hate to burst your bubble but I'm pretty stubborn once I've made up my mind. And just for reference, don't talk about me like I'm not here. My hearing is perfectly fine, just so you know."

"Feisty little thing, aren't ya?"

"Only when provoked, Sir Bors," she said sweetly.

"Eh, just use our names, ay?" He said, rubbing a hand over his head. "We ain't nobility."

"But you're Knights…" she trailed off.

"Not by choice." Galahad informed her, a scowl instantly crossing his handsome features.

"I don't understand…"

The youngest Knight snorted, and before any of his brothers could stop him, he snapped at her.

"Of course _you_ don't; you're _Roman_. You've never had to step outside of your perfectly shaped little life."

Ella's eyes narrowed into slits and her hands fisted over Gawain's armour, "For your famous information, _I am not a Roman!_ And you have no idea what my life is like, so _don't_ go making assumptions!"

He blinked at her as a blush crept up his cheeks and the others shook their heads at him.

"But... you look just like one…"

"_Wow_, do I? It might be because I'm dressed up as one?" she snapped sarcastically. "I told you, I'm in a play, _playing_ a Roman woman! Weren't you listening at all?"

"I think he may have been a little distracted by other things at the time…" Lancelot said, his eyes drawing to her chest.

"Urgh, _men_!" she dropped her head against Gawain's back and sighed. "Can't live with them, can't live without them!"

A throat being cleared made her roll her head to look at the person. She offered the famous commander a weak smile, which he returned.

"I apologise for my men's behaviour, Ariella. It won't happen again."

"That's real sweet of you, Sir Arthur. But I think you and I both know that it isn't going to change anytime soon," she smirked, sitting up straighter.

"Ah, perhaps you're right…" he grinned weakly. "If you wouldn't mind, could we now discuss why you're out here all on your own?"

The other Knights had all ridden ahead, about ten metres in front of them to allow for some privacy. Though, Ella suspected that Gawain had probably been tasked as the ears for the rest of them. She doubted they could keep their noses out of anything.

"Of course," she smiled at Arthur. "Though I don't know how much I can tell you… that you'll believe, anyway."

"You'd be surprised what we'd believe," Gawain chuckled. "Try us, at least."

She chewed her bottom lip.

"Well, uh, I don't know how I got out here. Last thing I remember, I was in the theatre, listening to the first act, and then… I'm standing in this big ol' field. That's why I thought I was dreaming."

Both men frowned.

"So you just… woke up here?" Arthur asked.

She shrugged. "I guess…Though I don't actually remember going to sleep."

"You fell asleep and woke up in a field?" Gawain repeated curiously. "Sounds like something Galahad would do! You weren't drinking?" He laughed.

"I wasn't drunk." She said dryly. "I wish it was that easy, I wish it were, but I know it isn't now. Everything's wrong. You don't…there aren't…I'm not from here. The time isn't right."

Arthur frowned. "Time?"

She took a breath and stared at him for a moment before slowly replying, "Time, as in my time. As in, not this one. When I… when I was home, it was 2011…"

She got the basic reaction she was expecting. Disbelief. Arthur stared at her silently, and Gawain twisted in his saddle so he could look at her with raised eyebrows.

"I'm starting to think Lancelot might've been right…" the blonde knight muttered.

She smacked his shoulder. "I'm not crazy. It's the truth; told you you wouldn't believe me. Look," She pulled up her skirts again and plucked one of the black devices from their strap around her thigh and handed it to Arthur. "This is a mobile phone. Its purpose is to allow communication between people. Where I come from, everyone has phones. Each phone has its own number, so you enter the number of the person's phone into yours when you want to talk to them. You could be on opposite sides of the world and you can talk to the other person like they were in the same room with you."

She watched the utter confusion fall upon the commander's face as he carefully handled the device. As if it was some sort of poisonous creature. Every word she had said had completely washed over the pair of medieval men.

"And it's all way beyond your comprehension," she muttered to herself, frowning as she debated how she could make them believe her.

Then, of course, there was also the slight problem of being burned at the stake for 'witchcraft' to worry about… "Sir Arthur, please. I'm not crazy, _or _a witch," –as far as she knew anyway- "I don't know how this happened, but every word I've spoken to you is the truth."

Arthur looked up from the thing that was so unlike anything he had ever encountered before, into the weary, anxious eyes of the strange girl.

"Where did you say you were from?" he asked slowly.

"I'm British, I swear. I was born in this country… just a few hundred years after this, heh," was her answer, her eyes pleading with him to believe her. "I know it sounds ludicrous, and I'm having an awfully hard time believing it myself, but I promise you that I'm _not_ lying."

Both Arthur and Gawain were silent, and Ella bit her lip to the point of almost making it bleed as she waited anxiously for the verdict. In all honesty, she wouldn't blame them if they just dropped her and ran in the other direction. Hell, she was tempted to do just that. Run, that is.

"I will not say that I believe you…" Arthur began and she winced.

_Damn._

"But neither will I say that I don't."

She blinked.

"Um, okay? Is this good or bad?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on Arthur's features and she felt a little more reassured. "You have the most unusual tale, Ariella, one most difficult to believe. However, you have presented me with knowledge that is unheard of here. If you give us no reason to distrust you, then you _will_ be safe with us."

Her relief was as clear as the day around them and it nudged the Commander in the direction of believing her, even if her tale was completely impossible.

"Thank you, Sir Arthur," the smile lit up her entire face. "Thank you. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't found me to be honest- I apologise again for acting so strangely, too."

Gawain laughed, "Don't, I found it rather amusing."

She smacked his shoulder lightly, though she still smiled, "I'm glad someone did."

"I'd say we all did, girl."

"Great! Just know it _won't_ be happening again."

"Ah, you take all the fun out of it. You are worse than Arthur."

Arthur shook his head, "Just because I am more level headed then the rest of you…"

"More boring, is more like it," the golden haired knight corrected with a grin.

Ella laughed.

"Perhaps being with you lot won't be so bad after all."

"You'll love us," Gawain assured her with a sly grin as they caught up with the others.

oOo

Ella smiled as another wave of insults passed between the men. They really were quite childish, she noted. After riding with them for several hours, that was the basic impression she got anyway. None of them seemed particularly serious, except perhaps, for the silent scout, Tristan. The man hadn't said a word the whole time she'd been with them, or not that she'd heard, anyway.

"Ariella!"

"Hmm?"

She looked up and sought out the one who'd called her name, her eyes resting on Lancelot's mischievous ones.

"Yes?"

She hadn't _really_ been paying attention to the conversation. Too busy gawking at the scenery they were passing and pondering her current situation. Mostly about how to get out of it. Ancient Britain was hardly a place she fancied spending the rest of her days.

Besides, the men talked like parrots on a high, whether she was listening to them or not.

"Who do you think, out of me and Gawain, would win in a fight?" he asked her.

She raised an eyebrow.

"And you're asking me because…?"

"Just wanted to know your opinion, my lady." he responded, charmingly.

Admittedly, she was flattered by his attention. And he _was _handsome; and dangerously good with words, but she _wasn't_ that gullible. And she'd be damned if he ever found out she thought so.

"I don't know. I've never seen you fight- and no, I don't need a demonstration. Gawain is burlier then you, so if it were a matter of strength then I'd say he would. But there are other variables to consider, speed, cunning, weaponry, environment…etcetera."

She waved a hand uninterestedly at them and then rested it back on Dagonet's shoulder. Gawain and Dagonet had changed over not long ago and now she rode just as uncomfortably behind the tall knight.

"Are they going to get over my presence any time soon?" she asked the quite man.

He chuckled softly and shook his head.

"It is unlikely."

"Great," Ella replied dryly. "Never in my life have I received so much _attention_, and now I just wish it'd stop. Go figure."

"They are harmless, really," he tried to reassure her.

The girl was jittery enough as it was without her worrying that one of them might jump her.

She clicked her tongue.

"I know; they're arguing about watch duty and cooking at the moment," she paused to listen to the words being exchanged between the younger men and Bors and nodded to herself. "I think they're ridiculous, if I'm honest," she whispered to him with a wide, amused smile.

"I'm glad you're not besotted with one of them- or all." Dagonet told her, equally as quiet. "It gets old after fourteen years of it."

Ella tilted her head.

"Is that how long you've been together?"

He nodded, "More than that, actually, but that is how far we are into our service."

"When does your service end?"

"One more year," he replied with a slight smile. "Then we are free men."

"I could never imagine what it's been like for you all," she squeezed his forearm in a gesture of sympathy.

Their debt, if it could be called that, to Rome had been explained to her. And her blood boiled at the inhumanness of it all.

"I'm so sorry."

She'd also learned that there were once _many_ more knights.

"It's not your fault." Dagonet told her, amused.

She sighed, "I'm still sorry. _Someone _should definitely apologise to you, even if it's just me. I feel that I should."

He smiled, "Then thank you, Ella."

"Wot are yous two whisperin' 'bout?" Bors' hearty voice rumbled, drawing both the eyes of his cousin and their new companion to him.

"Dagonet was just explaining to me about the cures for fevers here," Ella replied easily.

They _had _been discussing that at one point, when the healer had commented on her shivering when the wind picked up.

"It's quite fascinating."

Bors made an exasperated noise, "Couldn' you pick a better topic to discuss wit' the lass, Dag?"

"I asked him about it," Ella answered again, ruining the big man's efforts to harass his quiet cousin.

She then decided that it was fun to thwart their attempts to tease each other.

"He's very knowledgeable in the healing arts," she shot Dagonet a smile. "You're very lucky to have him, I'm quite sure."

"You're gonna make 'im blush." Bors grinned.

Ella didn't like the way his eyes were lighting up, there was certainly something distrustful in them. And unfortunately, something very familiar.

"Praise should always be given where it is deserved," she replied, eyeing the large knight wearily. "Why _are _you looking at me like that?"

He seemed to choke on the mischievous smile beginning to form. "Like 'wot?"

"Like you're planning something," she chewed on her lip. "Please stop it. You're creeping me out."

"Bors, leave the poor girl alone," Dagonet chastised.

"I wasn' doin' nothin'," his cousin defended. "I didn' even say a thing, did I, whelp?" He stared at Galahad, who sighed and shook his head, until he answered.

"No."

"But you were thinking it," Ella persisted with a scowl. "And I know that look, it's the same one my Mother gets when she sees her best friend's son."

"I ain't got no idea wot your on about, lass."

He was shockingly bad at feigning innocence. Someone should tell him that. She narrowed her eyes, and the other men all leaned a little closer to hear.

"Of course you don't, Sir Bors. But just in case you _do _get any ideas regarding the subject, I don't need a boyfriend, nor for that matter, do I want one. And when the occasion arises and I _do _want one, I'm perfectly capable of finding one myself. Thank you."

He looked confused, "Wots a _boyfriend_?"

_Ah, should've known they wouldn't be familiar with the terms._ "A partner of the opposite sex. A man with whom you are involved in a romantic relationship with," she explained diligently. "In your cases- unless you prefer men, of course- any woman you have a long-term relationship with would be your girlfriend. If you ask her to marry you, and she accepts your proposal, she then becomes your fiancée, and you her fiancé. After the wedding she becomes your wife and you become her husband. Are we all clear now?"

"What if you have many women with which you have 'a romantic relationship' with?" Lancelot asked suggestively, grinning widely at her.

She met his eyes evenly.

"That depends. If you're actually in a relationship with more than one woman, it makes you an arse. If they don't know that you're involved with another woman, it makes you a cheating son-of-a-bitch. And if the 'relationships' are purely sexual, it makes you a typical, hormonal, sex-craved male. A.k.a, a slut. Or man whore, take your pick," Ella shrugged, stifling a smile as the others snorted their laughter.

Lancelot glared at his brothers and scowled at Ella as she sent him a smile.

"Hey, you asked."

"And I now regret doing so," he muttered, cuffing a still-laughing Galahad up the side of the head as he rode past him and up to Arthur, away from his snickering brethren.

"Perhaps I should warn him when he won't like what I say?" she asked them, feeling proud of herself, but also a little guilty.

She hadn't meant to make him leave. _I'll apologise later,_ she assured herself. _It's not like he didn't need bringing down a peg or two._

"Perhaps," Dagonet agreed, though he himself was smiling.

"No!" Gawain cut in, taking deep breaths. "Don't warn him. It won't be as much fun."

"I'm not going to go around constantly hurting his feelings for your amusement, Gawain," Ella warned.

Bors chuffed, "Lass, ye didn' hurt 'is feelings, ye hurt 'is ego. An' he's got more than enough 'o that."

The smile once again tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Still. It's mean to pick on _just _him all the time. What if he slits my throat in my sleep?"

She was kidding…sort of. The reality of it was that she didn't know these men. And for all that they seemed harmless _now_, she knew that they would've had to have done things- unspeakable things- to survive here. She resolved not to piss Lancelot off too much.

"He wouldn't," Dagonet assured her, as if sensing her thoughts. "You are most certainly safe with us."

"Of course you are." Galahad pitched in.

He looked young, even younger with that boyish smile. And Ella found herself smiling back at him.

"I know. I just believe in common sense; and, while I don't believe any of you _would_ harm me, I still don't know you. It would be foolish of me to place complete trust in you so soon."

She patted Dagonet's muscular shoulder as a softener to her words, in case she'd somehow insulted them, "Tomorrow might be acceptable."

He chuckled at her, "Commendable. Sometimes it's difficult to find a woman with brains-"

"They're the worst," Bors muttered to the other two. They snorted.

Dagonet continued as if he hadn't spoken at all, "-who can think for herself. Are you going to sleep with one eye open tonight, then?"

She rolled her eyes at him. He starts with a compliment and ends with teasing? Talk about multi-tasking. And Ella thought men weren't capable of that.

"Maybe I should. What if one of you trip over me, fall and squash me?"

She flicked chestnut locks over her shoulder and tilted her nose upwards prissily. "I'm _clearly _so very breakable, and delicate."

"Oh really?" Gawain asked, grinning.

She gave him a superior look, "Didn't you know?"

"Women shouldn' know sarcasm," Bors rumbled again, eyeing her oddly. Like she might suddenly attack him. "It ain't good for us men."

Ella dropped her I'm-so-much-better façade and smiled sweetly, "I have to agree with you there, my good Sir."

"Are you sure you're not a Roman?" Galahad chortled. "You talk like one."

"Having a good vocabulary _doesn't_ make me Roman," she insisted, disliking being compared to the very nasty sounding people. "My Mother is very… _proper_. It's how I was raised, old fashioned. If I didn't have brothers, I'd probably be curtsying and blushing all the time. Thank god for brothers- though they are insanely annoying."

"Is your mother Roman?"

She gave the youngest knight a dry look.

"_No._ She's just…_very_ _English_. Times are very different, and so are the world's people. Romans aren't evil where I come from. But I still don't have an ounce of Roman blood in me, so _please_, stop asking."

"It just seems odd, is all."

_Don't I know it, _she thought, but she didn't say anything. They had major issues regarding the Romans- not that she could blame them. Maybe she should try to talk like a normal teenager, and not the high society her Mother had so insisted upon? It'd probably help.

_Thanks, Mother. Even from over a thousand years into the future, you're still making my life difficult. _Ella half smiled at the thought and how she'd probably have been scolded for it.

The breeze grew stronger, and sent a chill ripple through her. Ella shivered as the cold feeling settled in her stomach and she unconsciously inched closer to the knight in front of her. A bad feeling, the kind that had the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, clutched onto her heart and constricted.

Ella shivered again. She wrapped her arms around herself and leant her forehead against Dagonet's back. This time trying to ward off more than the chilling British breeze.

**A/N: ….And? How was it? Your feedback would be really appreciated :) It's actually longer then I thought it'd be, but once I started it just…flowed nicely :)**

**Just a side note-I will be away again next week for work. I leave on Sunday afternoon and probably get home Thursday night. So yeah, I won't have internet there therefore there won't be any updates until next weekend, sorry! Need the money though, story of our lives right? Lol.**

**Thank you for reading, **_**pretty please review!**_

**Love, **

**~Meg x x **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: It. Never. Ends. I've had some internet troubles, as well as getting sick, hence the delay. Sorry! Hope your all well and you enjoy this chapter (: **

**Warm thanks and cookies to **_**SasoLOVE111, LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX **_**and **_**princesspomegranate **_**for their lovely and encouraging reviews **

**And as always, thank you very much to my wonderful BETA **_**princesspomegranate**_** (: **

**. : ****Chapter 4 : .**

Ella hadn't been able to shake that bad feeling, nor could she figure out what the bad feeling was for. Thankfully, it _did_ lessen enough so that she didn't jump every time she heard a noise.

The group had ridden on, and, as the day began to fade, the wind picked up and grew colder. She'd eventually managed to rid herself of her 'good sense' to remain somewhat distant from the man in front of her and curled up as close and as best as she could to Dagonet. Good sense here was not freezing to death.

"Here."

She glanced up at the voice and the movement gave the wind the opening it needed to work more of her hair free of the pins she'd shoved back into it. Galahad was smiling at her with mixed emotions, the most plain of which was amusement. He held out a thick looking black cloak for her to take.

She hesitated a moment before gingerly reaching out to take it. Her arm felt stiff from not moving it for so long while it was assaulted by the icy winds.

"Are you sure? You'll not get cold?"

The cloak was in her grasp, but she still held it between them, in case he changed his mind.

He shook his head with a light, humorous laugh, "Miss, I've got a few more layers than you do. Take it."

She smiled, and then cursed silently as she felt her lips crack a little. _Damn wind_. Biting her tongue, so as not to say that his legs were bare, she took the material. "Thank you. And you can call me Ella, you know. It won't kill you."

"It's far too friendly, lass," Bors managed to say over the slight howl the wind was making through the trees they were entering. "'e's to bashful for tha'."

"I am not _bashful_," Galahad returned sharply. "It's called manners; you should try it some time."

"Now that would kill _him_," Lancelot laughed from just up ahead.

They had grouped a lot closer together as it had started to get later. Ella didn't want to imagine why. The feeling she had was making her nervous, and her grandmother's prim voice was echoing in her head. _'A woman's intuition is never wrong, Ariella Jean. You must always trust it.'_

She wasn't sure if this was women's intuition or not, but it really wasn't making her feel any better.

Bors ignored Lancelot and Ella ignored the lot of them as she wrapped the thick cloak around her goose bump-ridden frame and leaned back into Dagonet. She sighed in relief as it cut the chill factor considerably. Though her feet were still slowly turning to ice. She was pretty sure that her lips were blue and she couldn't stop trembling.

Dagonet must have noticed, because his back suddenly moved as his deep voice rumbled through him, "Galahad, take her and place her in front of you. She'll be warmer that way."

Ella lifted her head again to protest that this really wasn't necessary but the big man silenced her.

"Don't argue, it's no trouble."

"I don't like being coddled," she mumbled; she'd suffered enough coddling to last a life time. However, she smiled warmly at the young knight as he moved his horse closer to them again, despite her opinion.

"You're freezing," Dagonet said plainly.

"Am not."

It was a weak and pathetic protest, even to her own ears. So she let Galahad slide his arm around her waist and she gripped his shoulder tightly as the group stopped to allow the changeover.

She squeaked a little when he pretty much heaved her up with no warning and deposited her in his lap. He kept his arm supportively across her abdomen and gripped her hip as she shifted around to get more comfortable. She finally stilled when she was sitting with both her legs hanging over to one side and Galahad's arm curled around behind her back and rested against her waist to keep her from slipping.

Ella glared at Bors, Lancelot and Gawain- though he wasn't as bad as the other two-as they graced them with suggestive grins.

"One word and I'mma break your noses, 'kay?"

They chuckled and started moving again.

She sat rigidly for a while, not wanting to put all her weight on her new chaperone. Ella felt sorry for the horse because of the odd weight distribution, and then she got the terrible thought that she'd eventually cut the circulation to Galahad's legs.

"You can lean back on me," his voice penetrated her thoughts abruptly enough to make her jerk. "It's alright. I won't bite you and I won't let you fall."

He was whispering, so, thankfully, no one heard. Bors was worse than a nosy old woman.

"I don't want to be an inconvenience to you," she murmured back, tilting her head a little so she could look him in the eyes.

Even sitting in his lap she still didn't come eye to eye with him. It was more eye-to-chin. He smiled his boyish smile and shook his head, making his dark curly mop of hair bounce. It was quite cute, she realised with a blink. _He _was cute.

"You aren't," he said. Again, the voice that was like molten honey brought her from her thoughts.

She blushed under his blue eyed gaze. _Damn, his eyes are nice to._

"Oh."

_Wow, way to dazzle him with words, Ella. You dork. _And, to think, she'd been raised with the dictionary as her bed-time reading. To think, she was suddenly flustered around a man she'd known for a handful of hours. Internally, she slapped herself, disgusted with both thoughts. She'd been raised better than that.

He chuckled and pushed against her waist to encourage her to lean on him. Which she did, eventually, resting her head against his shoulder with a weary sigh.

"I see yer takin' good care o' our little damsel there, pup," Bors' unmistakable voice penetrated Ella's newfound comfort.

She felt Galahad tense, and knew he was gearing up for a retort so she beat him to it.

"Bors. Nose. Silence."

"Lass, yer woundin' me 'ere."

"Unfortunately, it doesn't appear to be your tongue that I'm wounding. Cut it out, will ya? Galahad's being nice. If you don't believe it, I'll ride with you and the others can have at _you_."

They could tell from her tone that it was not an empty threat. Galahad grinned down at her.

"I like 'er," the big man grinned toothily.

Well, kind of. It looked like he'd lost a few to god only knew what. Oh, the fits her mother and grandmother would throw if they knew the company she was currently keeping. They'd be quite spectacular, indeed.

"Um, thanks. I like you too, I think."

"Ye _think_?"

"Indeed. I _am _capable of thought."

_The coherency varies, but still counts as thinking._

"I don' think girls like ye are sposed ta be this…this…" he searched for the right word to describe the little oddity that they had found, but couldn't grasp it.

"Pretty? Dazzling? Intriguing?" she offered, a half smirk on her lips.

"Smartarse." He said finally.

She poked her tongue out at him childishly and said, "My Grandmother would have your hide for that."

Then, imitating the distinguished woman she was torn between loving and hating, she jutted her slim nose pompously into the air. "I am far above such a disgraceful word, Sir. You shall regret your degrading of me."

"Again, she speaks like one of those Roman arses." Lancelot mentioned amusedly to Arthur. Then, to her, he added teasingly, "I'd watch yourself, my Lady, it wouldn't be hard to confuse you with someone worth killing."

"Hah. I'd like to see you try." Clearly, she wasn't concerned. "I had a very proper upbringing. My Grandmother and Mother are both very strict, traditional women. I am the only daughter out of six children. They were very determined to turn me into a Lady more fit for the high society of a century or so ago. It doesn't exist in my time quite like it does today, but there are still royalty and such. My Father's a Duke."

She shrugged at this admission, as if it were nothing, and continued, "I had to be well groomed. I'm not really the tea-drinking, curtsying type though. Not really."

She looked lost for a moment, as if having fallen into her memories, but she forced herself out of it with an equally forced smile. "It doesn't matter."

"I beg to differ, my Lady, but it matters."

In the dimming light they could see her eyebrows rising as she stared at Arthur. "How?"

"Well, we can hardly be going around telling people that you are from the future. With no real proof and only your word, you will be either taken as mad, or a witch."

"Oh. Right, I know that. I wasn't exactly going to skip around telling everyone. I'm not _that_ stupid, Arthur."

"I never meant to imply that you were," he said, smiling to show he meant no harm. "I merely brought it up for you to mull over. People will ask questions. It would be best if you had a believable story to convince them of, to keep suspicion from you."

"That… is a good idea," Ella mumbled, frowning. "But what on earth will I tell them? I don't know your world, or not very well. But certainly not well enough to insert myself into it easily."

"We will help you," the commander assured her. "You'll be safe with us, my Lady, of that I assure you. I think it would be best if you didn't try to change your speech, I believe it will be most useful."

"You want her to be a Roman?" Galahad asked, and she felt him tense with the words.

Without really noticing what she was doing, Ella covered the hand on her hip with her own.

Arthur nodded, "She talks like a Lady of status, and looks like one. It would be believed. We'll just have to come up with a reason as to her being with us, and lack of escort and luggage."

"Raid?" Lancelot suggested. "There isn't any shortage of bandits or Woads who wouldn't think twice before attacking a carriage. Say her men were killed, possessions stolen."

"But why would they have spared me?" she asked, wriggling around a bit to sit up a little straighter and still be as close to Galahad and his warmth as was acceptably possible. "Surely they would've killed me to?"

"Ah…yes, probably," the second in command grinned a little.

"Ransom."

The word was so unexpected that Ella nearly fell off Galahad's horse. She stared at Tristan, mouth agape. "You _do _talk? I was beginning to think you a mute."

The laughter was immediate while the scout remained emotionless.

"He isn't known for his way with words, are you, Tris?" Gawain grinned. "But despite all his silence, when he does decide to grace us with his words, they're usually pretty helpful. A ransom for a rich nobleman's daughter would work."

"Okay, alright," she gave the scout a look. "Cough first next time, will you? I didn't know your voice, scared the bejesus out of me."

There was the slightest lift of the corner of his mouth, but apart from that he pretty much ignored her. Or that appeared to be the case. Ella made a mental note to be more wary of Tristan from now on.

Arthur nodded, "Now we'll just have to devise who your father is, where you live, and why you were travelling."

"I'll leave the last two to you," Ella said. "You'd have a much better idea. As for my father…would Lord Antonius of Windslet do?"

Arthur's eyebrows rose, "I suppose so, but where is Windslet?"

She shrugged and said, "It's my last name. I just thought it'd be easier to remember if it were familiar to me. Windslet could be the name of the family estate couldn't it? Oh! There are family names here, aren't there? Never mind then, Lord Antonius and Lady Eleanora Windslet, though it isn't very roman…"

"It will do," the commander nodded. "It sounds distinguished enough. We can say your family lives in the far north-"

"But, Arthur," Lancelot interrupted. "The north is thick with Woads, not many pampered rich nobles survive up there."

"Exactly," Arthur nodded with a grin. "It's a sign of her family's power. The north requires more guards, and more guards require more wealth. If others believe she comes from a powerful family, they will think twice before attempting anything and give her more respect."

Ella nodded slowly, "Makes sense, strong repercussions tend to ward people off. But why was I travelling? I doubt 'pampered Roman daughters' just take leisurely rides in enemy infested country for no reason."

"Firstly, you wouldn't have been riding; you'd have been in a carriage. And you're right, they don't, not this far from home anyway."

"Too soft for that sort o' thing," Bors rumbled. "Pansy lot."

She smiled a little, "Yeah, probably."

"I will think about it," Arthur declared. "We have about a week before arriving back at the fort, which will be plenty of time to think of a suitable story."

"Arthur, I am fully confident of your abilities, I've no doubt." she grinned at him. "You'd probably make a good story teller, if, you know, the knight thing doesn't work out for you."

He chuckled, "I'll keep that in mind."

She grinned back, and shivered as a gust of the icy breeze slipped inside the cloak. "You were right, Dagonet, I am freezing. Can't we stop? My toes are about to drop off!"

"Next time you'll know to be more prepared, and at least bring shoes." the healer chuckled at her.

She scowled back and snuggled into Galahad, trying to press her numb feet to his horse's warmth at the same time, "Next time I think I'll just skip the whole experience, thank you."

"What? Then you wouldn't have met us." Gawain said, feigning he was hurt.

"My dear man, right now, I would trade all of you for a warm, fire lit room and a comfy bed," she smirked at him. "Preferably my own."

"Again, you wound us, my Lady," he sighed.

"You'll live; don't be such a sissy."

**A/N: Things will hopefully start to warm up in the next couple of chapters! This one wasn't as long, hope that's okay. The next one, I hope, won't be that far away. But with me one can never quite tell. Things chop and change rather quickly, and I don't often get warnings in advance. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'd love to hear what you thought! Please review!**

**~Meg xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Evening lovelies c: I promised myself I'd have the next chapter up by my birthday, and I've actually kept it! :D So, without further ado, hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you thought!**

**HUGE thanks to **_**SasoLOVE111, Lady Marek, LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX, sunshine5991, princesspomegranate **_**and **_**xXxFantasyAmorexXx **_**for their lovely reviews. Your feedback makes it worth every hurdle :).**

**And as always, thank you very much princesspomegranate for BETAing! Legend!**

**. : ****Chapter 5 : .**

When it had finally gotten too difficult to see, and when Ella's teeth had started chattering, Arthur gave the order to make camp.

"I kn-knew there was a g-good reason I ha-hated camping," the girl mumbled mournfully as she inched a little closer to the fire Gawain was slowly building. Even though she had Galahad's cloak and was curled up into a ball, she was still freezing.

The blonde Knight gave her a sympathetic smile and threw a few more sticks onto the small but healthy flame.

"Can't you m-make it bigger?" she whined. "Getting f-frostbite h-here."

"Just wait and you'll warm up in no time," he promised her.

She huffed, feeling less than patient at that moment.

"Would you rather the Woads found us?"

Ella jumped then glared up at the owner of the heavily accented voice as he stood over her, "I th-thought I told you to cough f-first."

He gave her what she assumed was a Tristan-equivalent to an amused smile, though it looked more like scary smirk. He leaned to deposit the armful of bigger logs he'd been holding next to her, then seemed to mould back into the shadows even as she watched him.

"Creepy man," she muttered to herself.

He left the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, and he probably gave her goose bumps too, she supposed. But one couldn't decipher which goose bump was caused by creepy scouts and which by the arctic weather.

"Never mind Tristan. We think he just likes scaring people," Gawain chuckled at her, placing one of the logs his comrade had brought onto the fire.

Whilst Gawain had been given the task of fire-making and Tristan had obviously been sent on quest for big sticks, Dagonet appeared to be unpacking various saddle bags and Galahad was seeing to the horses. Arthur was seated-frowning over some piece of paper, but where Lancelot and Bors were, Ella didn't know. They had disappeared completely.

Ella hadn't really been concerned with much more then getting warm when the men had been issued with their tasks. She'd only taken notice enough to know that Gawain's name had been used in the same sentence as fire, so she'd stuck to her snake-slaying saviour.

The man was actually very nice. He wasn't _nearly_ as suggestive as Lancelot and Bors were. He smiled at her and talked to her like one would to a normal person- and she was thankful for that.

Lancelot and Bors were treating her, well… yes. Ella wasn't sure if they were like this all of the time, or if they were only carrying on like they were because she was there. She gathered Tristan was like he had been all the time, and she couldn't deny that he scared her just a little.

Arthur, while he was being very accommodating, kind and helpful, still seemed a bit sceptical. Not that she could blame him. He was a leader; he couldn't retain such a post if he were not cautious. Galahad was… She wasn't quite sure what he was being. He was talking to her and smiling and such, but she got the feeling he wasn't quite comfortable. For whatever reason.

Dagonet and Gawain were the only Knights that were treating her almost-normally. The tall healer was touchingly concerned for her health, but she was used to _someone_ always telling her to put gloves on or reminding her to brush her teeth etc. So Ella found she was finding the normality rather comforting.

She brushed the thoughts aside as Gawain sat next to her. She smiled at him through her cracked lips and scooted closer until their sides were touching. She remedied her cuddling up to a man she hardly knew with promising herself that she would be cautious enough of Tristan to make up for not being cautious of the others.

"I don't know how you stand it out here," she murmured to the blonde knight as she laid her head on his broad shoulder.

She noted that her stuttering had gone; and she could now flex her fingers without fearing they'd snap off. She uncurled from her ball-like position a little with this knowledge.

She felt him shrug, "I had no choice, but you do get used to it."

"Mm. I hope I don't have to."

"Well, well," Ella almost groaned aloud at Bors' booming voice.

Obviously, he'd returned from where ever he'd skipped off to.

Then she smiled, because imaging Bors skipping was a hilarious one indeed.

"Which one o' them are ye goin' after, lass? You'll 'ave 'em all barmy if ye don't make up yer mind soon."

Both Ella and Gawain turned their heads to glare at his grinning face. Lancelot strode into the camp from behind the burly knight, winking at her as he did so. Where ever Bors had been, it seemed that he'd been also. Ella thought briefly about making something of that, but decided against it. She _wasn't_ Bors and refused to stoop so low.

Then she noticed the deer slung over the man's shoulder and wrinkled her nose. "You were…er…hunting?"

"'Course we was. 'ave 't feed ye something, don't we?"

He dropped it near the fire and gave Lancelot a pointed look.

"Hurry up an' dress it, the poor lass is starvin',"

Ella sniffed. They expected her to eat that? It'd been in the _dirt_.

Lancelot didn't look too thrilled with his task either as he said, "I thought it was your turn. Besides, I shot it."

Bors gave, what Ella could only describe as a patient sigh, produced a long knife from his person, and held it out to the younger man. "Yeah, an' I carried it back. _Besides-_" the word was mocking, "-ye wouldn'a even seen it if it weren't fo' me. Get to it; we don't 'ave all bloody night."

Grumbling, Lancelot took the knife and, albeit unwilling, started skinning the young doe.

Confused, Ella turned her eyes back to Gawain and tilted her head questioningly. It seemed very unlikely that Lancelot would be squeamish about completing such a task- though she definitely was. As a knight, she figured having a tough stomach would have been a requirement.

As if she'd asked the question aloud, Gawain grinned down at her, "He's just lazy."

"Oh," she chuckled.

That made sense.

"Who's lazy?" Bors was staring at the pair expectantly.

_Nosey_ was certainly an understatement when referring to him. _Good lord._ Ella thought. _The man has the hearing of a hawk. _

"Lancelot," Gawain replied, grinning.

Bors snorted, "Ain't tha' the truth."

The second in command raised his eyebrows at his brethren, "I am not."

"No? You'd do just about anything to get out of duties," Gawain returned dryly.

Lancelot smirked and gave a one shoulder shrug before continuing his gruesome task, "Not my fault I'm smarter than the rest of you."

The others all gave snorts of disbelief. Galahad had finished with the horses and took a seat on Gawain's other side. Now the only one missing was Tristan. And Ella didn't even want to know what he was doing.

"It didn't take long for anyone to see through your tricks," the youngest proclaimed, and then added solemnly, "it's only when you _mysteriously disappear_ that you get out of anything now."

The accused didn't seem at all bothered by it. He just continued to smirk as he made a long, deep cut down the animal's stomach and the innards poked through.

"I'm going to be sick," Ella announced, slapping a hand over her mouth as her stomach churned.

At the mention of sick, as if his ears were attuned to pick up such talk, Dagonet appeared next to her. He glared viciously at Lancelot, "Don't do that _there_."

"What?"

She couldn't tell if he was faking the innocent tone or not. Lancelot was probably a very good liar.

Dagonet continued to glare at him, "Take. It. Away."

He sounded like an exasperated father dealing with an ignorant child. Like her own father often sounded when dealing with one of her brothers.

Lancelot gave Ella's green appearance a once over, muttered an apology, hefted up the kill and hightailed it.

They stared at the shadow he'd disappeared into. She found it unnerving how, even though he'd rushed, he still hadn't made an ounce of noise.

Gawain shook his head, "As soon as a woman looks like she might be maintenance, he moves faster than if he was being chased by Woads."

She nearly laughed, but she really did think she was going to be sick, so she held it in.

"Here," the healer said as he handed her a cup she hadn't noticed.

It was filled with water, and she gulped it greedily, sighing as the soothing liquid washed down her throat and calmed her unsettled stomach.

"Thank you."

"Eh, sorry 'bout that, lass," Bors rumbled sheepishly. "Didn' realise ye might be...er."

"It's alright," she smiled at him reassuringly. "I shouldn't be, my family is fairly into hunting, but I've never been very good with blood and guts I'm afraid."

She frowned up at Dagonet, handing him back the clay mug. "But isn't that a little, um, unhealthy? Dressing it on the ground, I mean."

"He'll hang it up to skin it," the giant explained. "We just remove the stomach first so it's lighter to lift."

"None of you look like that would be a task anyway," she said honestly. Even Galahad and Tristan, who were the leanest among them, looked like they could've lifted the deer whole and not even grunted. But she supposed that was what over a decade of ruthless knighthood did to someone's physique.

With typical male ego's, she watched in amusement as they all seemed to swell proudly. It was kind of like watching toads puff up when you harassed them.

Arthur raised his weary emerald eyes from the map he'd been studying and sighed loudly, "Don't encourage them. Really, their bad enough as it is."

She smiled at him and laughed, "Sorry... Mind me asking what you're doing?"

His eyes dropped back to the map and his brow creased into a frown.

"I'm attempting to predict the enemy's next attack, with little luck. Woads don't seem to practice rationality."

Ella blinked. She knew _Woads_ was the term the men gave the British rebels, or Picts, as history class had referred to them as. But really, until now, she hadn't really wondered _why_ the knights were out here in this horrendous weather. They'd only really talked of it lasting about a week. Details on what _it _was had been bypassed.

"Arthur?"

"Mmhm?"

He didn't look up from the map, but she figured she had his attention anyway.

"May I ask you a question?"

His eyes rose and met hers. She guessed he was somewhere in his late twenties, early thirties, but his eyes spoke of a knowledge and weariness much older than his years. He'd seen much and it had made him into an old man long before his time.

"Yes, of course," he prompted her when she didn't continue.

Heat flushed her cheeks as she realised she'd simply been staring at him, and now everyone else was staring at her.

"Sorry," she coughed, attempting to remove the embarrassment. "I was lost in my thoughts. I do that- bad habit."

The admission was accompanied by a sheepish smile. "But I was wondering, why exactly are you here? I mean, what brought you from the fort?"

The commander tilted his head slightly, "Oh. There have been increasing reports of a Woad group launching attacks on travellers and villages. We're here to conduct a patrol and hopefully… eliminate the problem."

"Ah, I see."

They meant to find the group responsible for terrorising the locals and kill them. Ella could understand that, though it seemed a tad barbaric. But times were different. She wasn't at home anymore.

"It isn't ideal that you accompany us," Arthur said softly. "It puts you at risk, and divides our attentions…"

"Putting you at increased risk as well," she interrupted and finished for him. She smiled sadly. "I'm aware of the problem I'm creating for you, Sir Arthur. I am sorry, I didn't mean for…"

He waved off what else she had to say and gave her a reassuring smile, "It's not your fault. Your presence just changes things. I'd never have left you there."

She felt warm and fuzzy inside, and was tempted to _aww_ or hug him. That probably wouldn't go down too well though, so she patted Gawain's arm and used him to get to her feet. Careful not to trip or step on anything -she really needed to find some shoes- she crossed to Arthur's side and sat on the log next to him, peering at the map in his lap.

"Maybe I can help you? Show me their movements," She doubted if she'd be any real use, the marks and names on the parchment meant nothing to her, but she had to repay them somehow, might as well offer.

Arthur seemed surprised, but smiled and nodded. He tapped a finger over a symbol she thought was a crossing in a river.

"Their first attack was on a trade convoy, here."

He traced his finger downstream, or so she assumed, to a different symbol she took to mean a village.

"Then here, four days later."

She frowned, "Four days? Seems unlikely. How far is it from there to there?"

Arthur frowned, "Two days ride, three if the horse is kept to a walk. They could make it in that time. Why?"

"Well, they attacked a trade convoy. Doesn't that mean they'd have been carrying different goods? Do Woads steal or do they just kill?"

"Both," Galahad answered for Arthur, a hatred burned into his tone.

Ella met his eyes across the fire for a moment, and saw pain and loss in their blue depths as well as anger and hate.

"Then they would have stolen from the convoy, _surely_, unless they failed in their attack. They wouldn't have taken what they stole with them to the village- that would just be stupid. And what about their wounded? Wouldn't it have taken time to see to them? Or are they that barbaric that they leave their injured behind?"

Arthur looked vaguely amused, "You ask a lot of questions, don't you?"

She shrugged, "How can you solve a puzzle if you don't have all the pieces?"

"Very wise," he commended her, then turned serious as he answered her queries. "Woads are ruthless, but they are very loyal to their own, and very protective of what they consider theirs. They're not particularly organised, they're more opportunistic unless they intercept messengers. I agree with you in regards to the convoy. They managed to separate two carts from the rest on this side of the river, so yes, they would have had goods in their possession and I don't believe they would have taken them with them. And they would have at least done patch jobs on any wounded."

"Are they nomadic?"

"They can be, but there are permanent camps deep in the forests that no one reaches."

"Or if anyone does, they never return," Gawain put in darkly.

Woads were obviously a sore subject.

"They know this land like no one else. Even the children know how to survive out here," Arthur continued. "It is often the biggest advantage they have over Rome."

"We ain't lost a fight yet though," Bors boasted. "They ain't got an advantage over _us_."

"Oh, but I think they do," Ella murmured. "I think they outnumber you quite a bit."

"Eh? So? That ain't nothin' new, lass. There's always more o' them then there is o' us."

"But it makes a difference though, doesn't it?" she pushed.

"Yes," Arthur replied. "Of course."

"What are you thinking?" Galahad asked her, tilting his head curiously.

"Well…" she bit her lip, unsure. She was hardly an expert on this sort of thing and wondered fleetingly if it was her place to voice her speculations. "I _think _it must be a fairly big group. _Think._ To have gained whatever it was in the carts, plus to tend to whatever wounded there was, _and _to get to the village in four days to strike again, they would need numbers. Some would have to stay behind, or they'd not have made it in four days. They'd have to travel at night as well and that, I'd assume, would make them rather worn out come the day they attacked. What idiot launches an assault that can wait if all the men were asleep on their feet?"

"An interesting point, Ariella," Arthur murmured. "Very interesting. I think you might be right."

She blinked, "You do?"

"You sound surprised," he grinned.

"Well…durh. I have no idea what I'm talking about."

"You don't have to," the commander said. "You just have to apply logic and sense, and know all the pieces."

She smiled slightly and drew her legs up to her chest, making sure her skirts and the cloak kept her completely covered.

"Glad I could help then; but I doubt you'd have not figured it out. Besides, there are more men in the group, so what? As Bors said, it's nothing new for you."

"It's always nice to be prepared. Surprises can be nasty."

"Indeed they can," She whispered, turning her eyes to the fire and staring into the bright, dancing flames. "Very nasty."

**A/N: ****How was that? Please review and let me know! :) **

**Now I'm off to have cake. Lol. Night!**

**~Meg xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey guys! New chapter! Dat da dar! Lol. Sorry, my insomnia is making me weirder hehe. **

**Gracias **_**LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX, SasoLOVE111, Lady Marek, PrincessGrimm, xXxFantasyAmorexXx **_**and **_**princesspomegranate **_**for your wonderful reviews c: The support is fantastic and very much appreciated!**

**And as always super duper thanks **_**princesspomegranate **_**for BETA-ing!**

**Hope you enjoy this one! Please leave a review at the end (: **

**. : ****Chapter 6 : .**

Ella's eyes fluttered open the next morning when her bed moved.

She frowned for a moment, wondering what the hell was going on. Then her eyes focused and she found herself looking at black material instead of the blue of her sheets that she'd expected to see. She wondered vaguely if perhaps Rita, the head housemaid, had changed them without her noticing. The thought was discarded however, as she noticed that her bed wasn't this hard, her room was never this cold and whatever she was lying on rose and fell with a steady, continuous rhythm.

And there was a noise. A truly terrible noise.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes and took in more black material, but the shapes underneath it were easily recognisable as legs. Not that the boots poking out where the material ended gave anything away.

But they weren't _her _booted feet. They were far too big to be hers and she'd never worn shoes to bed in her life.

Her pillow shifted again. Ella froze.

Carefully, she tilted her head up, holding her breath. Her gaze found a gap in the top of the black material and, through it, was a minimal amount of what appeared to be smooth, flat skin. From there formed a neck… And then a face…

"Oh," she said.

The fog rushed from her brain as if someone had just turned a light on.

"Uh…oh."

Blue eyes smiled at her and she felt the blush take over. Now fully awake, she was quite aware of everything. It was cold because there was barely enough light to see, which probably meant it was just cracking dawn- the coldest time of any day. And her bed was hard because Galahad was by far tougher than her plush mattress.

She was curled up so close to him, that she doubted any air could have squeezed in between them. Her head was resting on his chest, one arm wrapped around his lower torso, her left leg was thrown over the top of his and the rest of her was just plastered to his side in general.

"Umm…"

'Dear lord, what on earth am I _doing_?' she wondered.

Galahad's chest shook with his soft, muffled laugh.

"You got cold, is all," he whispered to her.

She felt some of her panic and embarrassment die; and then she realised, much to her immense relief, that they appeared to be the only ones awake. She also found the source of that hideous noise.

Dark cloak only half covering him, Bors was laid flat on his back with his head back, mouth open, _snoring._

Ella covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. And to think, Tristan had been worried about the _fire_ giving away their location. Bors was doing a spectacular job of broadcasting it all on his own.

"Um, Ella?"

She raised her laughing eyes to meet Galahad's again.

"Do you think you could let me up?" he grinned down at her.

"Oh."

The blood rushed back to her cheeks and she scooted away from him like he'd suddenly burned her.

"Sorry!" she whispered hastily.

He propped himself up on his elbows as she sat up, his cloak falling to pool in her lap as she turned the colour Bors did when he was extremely pissed off. Galahad chuckled at her, careful not to rouse any of the others. He figured she'd rather they not get wind of this, though as watch changed they probably all would have seen them anyway. But he didn't think she needed- or really _wanted_- to know that.

"It's alright," he replied, attempting to calm her when she wouldn't look at him.

"I didn't mind, I just have to get up and find breakfast."

"Oh."

She said that a lot, but at least she was smiling a little now, Galahad thought.

He wasn't quite sure why it was suddenly important that she smiled, but he reasoned it with the fact that women were generally easier to handle if they were happy.

He grinned back at her and got to his feet, grabbing his chain mail and shoulder guards and putting them on. When he looked back at her, she hadn't moved, but was watching him thoughtfully. He felt himself straighten slightly under her scrutiny.

He'd just laid a hand on his bow when her soft voice interrupted him.

"Can I come with you?"

"What?" he was so surprised by the request that he forgot to whisper.

Ella gave him a pointed look and stood, wrapping his cloak around her frame and tip-toed over to him.

"Would you mind if I accompany you?" she asked slowly, once she'd neared him.

"I did hear you," he grumbled.

"I don't think it's a good idea."

She frowned.

"Why ever not? You're only going hunting."

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her.

"I thought you didn't like the blood."

"I won't _touch _it. I just want to stretch my legs, get some fresh air. I'd go on my own, but I doubt that any of you would allow it. Besides, I'd probably get lost anyway... Please, Galahad?"

She was very different from Vanora, he decided. While Nora got her way by being a sheer force to be reckoned with; Ella, it seemed, probably got her way by giving people the look she was currently giving him. The look that turned his resolve to mush and made him sigh heavily.

Realising she'd won, the young woman gave him a bright smile and stepped aside, clearly waiting for him to lead the way.

With another sigh and a cautious look at his slumbering brethren, Galahad slung his bow and quiver over one shoulder and walked silently out of the camp. Ella hugged the cloak to her and scuttled after him.

The forest away from their little clearing was poorly lit and filled with a light fog that rose up to about knee height. It was like something straight out of some gothic romance novel, beautiful and mysterious with that slight hint of hidden danger. Her heart beat a little faster and she hurried to get a little closer to Galahad, excited and scared in the same breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, amusement hidden in his voice.

He kept his voice low, though now they were far enough away from the others that there was no fear of waking them. He was probably doing it so as not to scare any potential game though, Ella assumed.

She nearly rolled her eyes at herself. Really, she should know all of this; her brothers were all mad about hunting. A few of them even did it traditionally like Galahad was doing now- with the bow and arrows. She'd even trudged through the woods with them at this time on occasion. But somehow, she was still managing to act like an idiot.

She gave him a lopsided smile and nodded, "Yes, fine. Just jumpy, I suppose."

"I can take you back if you'd like."

"No! Really, I'm fine," She assured him.

"I don't want to go back; a walk will do me good."

His eyes dropped to where her bare feet were peeking out from under the hem of her now slightly dirty dress and he sighed again.

"I forgot about that. I should take you back. Dagonet will have my hide when he finds out."

He turned and went to head back but she reached out and clutched his forearm tightly.

"Please, don't. I just need a walk to level my head. I promise you won't get into trouble for it and I _won't_ be a burden. I've done this before. Please, Galahad? _Please_?"

He swore under his breath when he looked at her, already knowing that doing so would be a bad idea. She was giving him that pleading, heart-breaking look again.

"We can't be out long," he decided, finally, after a rapid internal debate.

"With any luck, we'll get back before the others wake. They sleep like rocks left on their own anyway."

She grinned and squeezed his arm in thanks.

"I'd have thought, being knights, that you'd have all been light sleepers."

He smiled and grabbed her wrist in a light hold, keeping her close as he led them on. Dagonet would still kill him, no matter what she said. It'd just vary on how he did it. The big healer really did get quite protective of his patients.

"Sometimes, I guess. Depends on how relaxed we are. We're not in that much danger here, so they'll sleep better."

She tilted her head at his back as she trailed after him and said, "You make it sound like that doesn't happen often."

"What? Us sleeping well?"

He looked over his shoulder to see her nod, before continuing, "Doesn't really."

"Why?"

As soon as the word left her mouth, Ella knew she'd made a mistake.

His grip on her wrist tightened drastically. His back went board-straight and even under his armour she could see the tension across his shoulders.

"Doesn't matter," he replied, his voice like an icy dagger, cold and sharp.

She was half surprised that it hadn't managed to spill her blood all on its own.

"I'm sorry, I didn't… I'm sorry," she stuttered her apology, still shocked from the change in him.

She'd thought him young and happy, kind and handsome. But he wasn't that anymore, with a one word question, he turned old and angry, cold and dangerous.

This man frightened her worse than Tristan did. This man could've pierced her heart with one of his arrows. Was it possible this man lived in all the men? This cold killer? If so, which man was the real one?

Galahad's grip on her disappeared and he took a step away from her even as his form relaxed.

"Ella…" he sounded remorseful.

He sounded like the young and happy Galahad again. The chill that had leapt into her heart died a little with the knowledge that he was still in there.

"I didn't mean to frighten you... I'm sorry."

She shook her head but avoided looking him in the eyes, afraid of what she might see in them.

"No, I'm the one at fault, I shouldn't pry. It's none of my business."

He sighed heavily, glaring at the space between his feet, annoyed and angry with himself.

"Arthur always says I'm too volatile. It always gets me out of going to negotiations and formal meetings though."

Sensing the prompted joke behind his words, Ella gave him a small smile.

"And that's a good thing?"

He shrugged.

"I always thought it was. Negotiation with Romans is impossible. I don't have enough patience to last it. Never goes well if I'm there."

She smiled then, a full, true smile; and he nearly deflated in relief.

"I don't think it's a character flaw."

He raised his eyebrows at her disbelievingly. He'd just scared the hell out of her, he knew he had. Even as unintentional as it had been, he knew that she'd been scared of _him_. He cringed at the thought, and now she _didn't_ think it was a _character flaw_? She did have the strangest way of talking; or thinking even.

Galahad knew all the reputations he and his brothers had. Barbaric killers, drunkards, wild, dangerous, borderline-ridiculous; the list went on. Each one was true, or, in part true, at least.

They weren't cold-blooded killers though; they wouldn't cut down _anyone _who stood in their paths. But people were wary of them anyway, because news travelled fast and too often got twisted by the time it reached the last pair of ears.

They'd long gotten tired of correcting the rumours, no matter how despicable, and instead just left them to circulate. Galahad was surprised that anyone went near them really.

Maybe he'd stopped trying to change the rumours because they held more truth than any of them cared to admit- even to themselves. They weren't the little boys clutching to their mother's skirts anymore.

There was a monster inside all of them now. A monster who knew exactly what blood tasted like and enjoyed it.

The others always teased Galahad, called him 'pup' or 'whelp' and generally treated him as if he was still a boy. He might've been the youngest, but he knew he wasn't a boy; he hadn't been one for a long time. He knew that that monster lived in him just as much as it did in the others. The only difference was that he had less control over it than they did. As he'd proved with Ella now. He _was _too volatile, too hot-headed. He didn't think; he just snapped.

If that wasn't a _character flaw_, then he'd hate to see what was.

"What do you think it is then?" he asked her, interested to see if she could actually come up with an explanation.

It was pointless if she was trying to make him feel better about it if that's what it was that she was doing. Trying to forget was how the drunkards came about. They drank to forget the blood, the screams, the terror, _themselves_. But it didn't work, nothing did.

This time, Ella simply shrugged and began walking again.

The mist surrounding them was nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn't thick and didn't pose much of a problem, hunting wise. Not for him.

"I think its passion," she answered finally as he fell in step with her.

"You think it's _what?_"

She gave his arm a light shove, "God, don't be like Bors. I think you're passionate about what you believe in; you're just a little tempered about it. I don't think it's a bad thing."

He doubted she'd be saying that if she knew what he'd done. If he was _passionate_,then it wasn't a good thing. Not when instead of talking things through- like Arthur would- or backing away- like Dagonet might- he went for his sword. Galahad wasn't the only one like it either; Lancelot and Bors were hardly angels, but his temper was undeniably the easiest to trigger. Even Bors had more self-control than he did.

"I'm going to have to disagree with you," he told her, eyes scouring the underbrush for movement.

"Then we're just going to have to agree to disagree," she said, leaning closer as if she was going to tell him a secret.

"I don't think you're as bad as you think you are, Sir Galahad."

As she continued on, he stared after her.

_What an odd girl,_ he decided. _A very, very odd girl._

oOo

By the time they had returned to the camp, the sun was up, the mist had cleared and the incident with Galahad's temper was all but forgotten. Only to be replaced with a new, more pressing matter.

"It's a _rabbit_, for the love of the gods, woman!"

The apparent serenity that had fallen upon the world seemed to only be that- apparent.

Ella glared mercilessly at the exasperated knight and cuddled the tiny ball of fluff protectively to her chest.

"It's a _baby_ rabbit, thank you very much."

Galahad gave an indignant huff and stalked back to the fire, which had been relit. He dropped the two adult vermin that he'd managed to shoot before Ella had laid eyes on the little thing and pounced on it. She'd then threatened to burn him with her iron gaze when he'd congratulated her on literally catching the rest of their breakfast.

His earlier hopes of getting back before the rest of his brothers woke up had been pointless as the eyes of all six other men landed on the squabbling pair.

"There you are!" Gawain said.

"Thought you'd been taken by Woads, where the hell have you been?"

"Been out t'gether has ye's?" Bors grinned and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, only to nearly swallow his own tongue when the girl pinned him with her murderous gaze.

Arthur cast a weary eye between his youngest knight and their new companion and asked slowly, "What is going on?"

"He's an arsehole, that's what's going on," Ella snapped, lifting her tiny bundle up for them to see.

"He wants to _eat _him!"

The men exchanged glances, unsure as of what to do. Ella brought the baby rabbit to her face and lightly touched her nose to its own.

"The horrid man won't get you, will he, Peter? No he won't," she cooed.

Pressing a feather-light kiss to its forehead, she cradled the small, petrified thing back to her chest.

Galahad groaned loudly, "What? Now you're _naming_ it? How'd you even know it's a male?"

Glaring at him like she would've liked nothing better than for him to spontaneously combust; Ella thrust the quivering ball stomach up in his direction and pointed with a finger to the area between its back legs. The rabbit let out a squeal at the treatment.

"Do females sport balls, moron?"

"She has you there," Lancelot laughed.

"Though you might be the exception, pup."

"Shut up, Lancelot!" the pair snapped at once.

"Eh, don' know wot all the fuss is o' 'bout," Bors mumbled. "Plenty o' food, let 'er keep the thing."

Galahad threw his hands up in the air, swore profusely, and flopped down on his backside to glare at the fire.

Ella beamed, and scrambled over to Bors to kiss his cheek. "Thank you!"

The big man laughed. "Easy little thing t' please, ain't ye?"

But Ella was too busy cooing to _Peter _to take any notice of what he was saying.

**A/N: It's a bit shorter then what I originally anticipated it to be, but it's there nonetheless (: I hope you like it! **

**Don't forget to review! I'll try and have a chapter up every week or thereabouts (: **

**Much love, **

**~Meg xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: After ALL this time….I finally got it finished! Unacceptable, I know, I hate Writer's Block. Hate, hate, hate it! :( I'm sorry it took so long, and I will try my best not to let it happen again. **

**Thank you so much to **_**LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX, SasoLOVE111, Lady Marek, alien.94, missfervent **_**and **_**Readerfreak10 **_**for their reviews ^^ **

**Muchas Gracias princesspomegranate for BETA-ing  
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**Hope you enjoy this chapter, and leave a comment at the end!**

**. : Chapter 7 : .**

As soon as the little fluffy feet touched the ground, the baby rabbit vanished, leaving only small puffs of dust and rustling leaves in his wake.

Galahad fought against the urge to let his head thump against his saddle as he watched Ella straighten from her crouched position, having completed her task of setting _Peter_ free.

_All that fuss and she just lets the bloody thing go?_ He had thought she was intent on keeping the vermin, though what she'd do with it- he had no idea. But apparently not.

All the arguing was for nothing.

Nobody said anything as the girl went over to Dagonet and wordlessly began helping him pack up the few supplies they had unpacked the night before. She even started humming, not seeming at all fazed by the disappearance of her pet.

When she finally noticed the silence several minutes later, she looked up and frowned at them.

"What?"

"You let it go?" Galahad couldn't help but blurt, whilst trying to keep his voice even and not show how _unimpressed_ he was with the new development. She gave him all of her attention and her frown deepened.

"Uh, yes? Is there a problem with that?"

She was daring him to be stupid enough to say what she _knew _he was thinking.

Fortunately, Arthur cut in before the pair could start another argument.

"Of course not. We are just confused as to why you would let it go, after you showed such a…strong desire to keep it."

"Wild rabbits aren't practical pets. They never really become quiet and they more-often than not run away. I never wanted to keep him- I just didn't want to _eat_ him," she said airily, unfazed. "Besides, I'm hardly in a situation to take on a pet, am I? Where'd you think I was gonna put him?"

Lancelot opened his mouth, but closed it when Arthur gave him a warning look. She'd _just_ stopped yelling at Galahad, for the love of God. The commander didn't think he could deal with another outburst from her quite so soon. Ella raised an amused eyebrow at them and coughed to disguise her smile. If they thought they weren't being obvious, then they were sorely mistaken.

"So, where are we going today?"

"East," Arthur replied instantly, thankful for the change of subject. "To the second village the Woad band attacked. We'll be parting ways there…"

Ella interrupted him with a sharp and panicked, "_What?_ You... you can't _leave _me! Are you _insane_? My god, man! That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard. I come from a different time, or did you miss that little news flash? You can't dump me in some foreign village at the mercy of unknown people!"

Arthur held up his hands, either in defence or a gesture of peace, and said quickly, "Ariella, please, calm down. It would only be for a short while- for your own safety. We would collect you on our way back to the fort. That way you would miss the most dangerous part of the mission…"

Ella felt her cheeks brighten considerably.

"Oh… Bugger. I just freaked out without cause, didn't I?"

The men laughed and nodded.

"We'll forgive you, though," Gawain winked, then added seriously. "Just don't do it _too_ often."

She smiled tentatively and said, "Mother's always berating me for that. Bad habit."

Arthur was wondering how in the name of God they had been landed with this situation, but he smiled anyway and motioned to Ella to come to him. "Come, we have to get moving."

She nodded acceptingly, curling the cloak around her and stepping up to the commander.

oOo

It was well and truly daylight when Tristan, who had gone off scouting, returned to the group. They rode back to the grassy plains, but Ella knew they were following the edge of the trees. They still managed to avoid being too close to them, however. _Ambush, _she thought with a barely suppressed shiver. Her fingers curled into Arthur's rich red cape instinctively. Perhaps it was best that she stayed in the village after all.

She didn't believe she was capable of witnessing a real battle- or skirmish or war or brawl or fight or whatever word that they used to describe it. She was sure that they all meant the same thing, just perhaps on a slightly different scale.

"It is beautiful here," she said softly, gazing around at the lush scenery.

Not a road or car or house or anything man-made in sight.

"So untouched."

Her family's estate wasn't overly done with human presence. There were acres of gardens and man-fashioned woods, then the natural woods, which were kept stocked with game for when her brothers were home. But this was different, this was _natural_. She doubted that all of this Britain had even seen a man, let alone been altered by one.

"It is," Arthur agreed, allowing his eyes to wander also.

"Were you born here?" she enquired. "Your men are foreign, and you're Roman, but…"

He glanced at her over his shoulder.

"Yes, I was born here. My Mother was a Briton. My Father was Roman. He was the Commander of the last Knights."

"Was?" Ella asked gently.

She felt the man tense beneath her hands and his extensive armour. She winced.

"Arthur, forgive me, I shouldn't…"

"No, it's alright," he cut her off. "I'm not surprised that you are curious about us. We are of you, too. It's understandable."

She gave him a thin smile.

"But there is a line, Commander. Sometimes, most of the time, I speak before I think. I've no right to pry, I'm sorry."

"You are wise, for someone as young as you."

He gave her a smile, assuring her he was not mad. She blushed a little at the praise and waved it off.

"Not nearly as wise as yourself, Sir Arthur. I can't be much younger than Galahad at any rate."

"No, not by much. He's only four years your senior," he said, sneaking her a glance.

"Is that too old?"

She frowned, confused, and asked, "Too old for what?"

"You told Lancelot that he was too old for you to consider."

His eyes took on a slightly mischievous glint. Perhaps he wasn't as quite out-of-place with his rowdy men as she'd thought.

"Galahad is the youngest of us."

"Oh," she blushed a brilliant shade of red, and buried her face in his back, murmuring. "That was mean. I have _no_ intentions like _that_."

He laughed, a deep vibrating sound.

"I apologise…"

She smacked his arm and said, "You're about as sorry as I am black. Or blue, as the case may be."

He grinned, "Touché, M'Lady."

"Oooh, and the handsome commander speaks French," she arched an eyebrow, risking revealing her face. "Is there no end to your endearing characteristics?"

"I thought you were shy," he accused, jokingly.

She shrugged, smiling, "As Lancelot has so observantly pointed out, I'm a female. It's my birthright to change my mind as often as I please."

He laughed again.

"What _are _you two talking about?" Gawain said suddenly as the rest of the men trotted to catch up and close in on them.

Not unlike crows did on a carcass, or a hawk on a field mouse.

"My birthrights, Sir Gawain," Ella answered, grinning.

"…Birthrights?" Bors echoed. "…Ye wot?"

"Don't fret about it; it's nothing but amusing conversation. I don't think I could repeat it to you even if I tried," she said airily. "Your Commander is just entertaining me."

They exchanged bewildered looks.

"Arthur?" Lancelot voiced, gesturing to the man he called brother. "Entertaining you? How?"

His curiosity was so genuine that Ella had to laugh at it.

"We get along well, is all," she replied with a one shouldered shrug. "Why would that be peculiar?"

"Arthur's not really the entertainment type," Gawain said, giving the commander a grin to assure he meant no harm by the words.

Arthur just smiled, "They speak the truth. I spend most of my time at the Wall in my study…"

"With yer nose in some book." Bors finished with a rumbling belly laugh. "Instead o' bein' out wiv' us, havin' yerself a good time fo' once."

"What if he prefers the books to your company?" Ella asked cheekily, grinning. She was enjoying the banter. It reminded her of her brothers. She felt her heart clench at the thought of them. Were they worried about her?

_Of course they would be_, she reasoned with herself. They were always worried about her. _It would just depend…if time is moving normally at home. _She'd seen enough movies to know that there was no way she could know the possibilities. There might have only been a second pass in 2011…or years, or…

She shook her head a little to clear those thoughts. It would do her no good to stress about it. A good, calm, level head was the key here.

"Don't be daft, lass," Bors was saying, looking at her like she was mad at suggesting such a thing. "Ow' could he prefer _books_ over us?"

She frowned and held up both her hands, palms upward, and pretended to weigh the options.

"Hm, let's see, rowdy men- whom one sees all the time, or, peaceful study with a good book…decisions, decisions."

Arthur laughed, "Now, now. How about we settle on both?"

"Very diplomatic answer, good Sir," she smiled, then slapped his arm lightly. "You're no fun. I thought I was going to get into a good debate then."

"I'm sure you'll get other chances."

And oh, how she had _no_ doubts about that.

oOo

They arrived at the small village by mid afternoon. Roughly built houses were separated by even rougher dirt tracks that she supposed were roads. It certainly looked like medieval times here.

She stayed atop Arthur's charger as he dismounted and left her with the men while he went to speak to the inn keeper.

_Knights, chargers, inn keepers…it all sounds like something out of a fairytale,_ she thought wearily, tucking the borrowed cloak more tightly around herself. She'd certainly chosen the wrong fairytale to fall into though.

Suddenly, the idea of leaving the men and their wilderness parade for 'civilisation' looked a whole lot less appealing. There were so few people around, but she saw the occasional face peep around windows or doors.

_Creepy,_ she decided. _Definitely creepy._

"I don't like the look of this," she whispered to Gawain. "Why is everyone hiding?"

"That's because of us," he replied. "The isolated villages are weary of newcomers. They are the ones who suffer worst from Woad attacks; makes them very…nervous."

"Oh."

She looked around at the bleak little town and asked, "How long before you get back, again?"

"Several days. Not long," he assured her with a smile.

"And you _will_ be back, yes? You really will come back and get me?"

He nodded, "Of course; you have our word."

"Good. I'll be really, _really_ pissy if you don't…" she murmured, twisting her fingers and popping her knuckles. "I am _not_ looking forward to this now…"

"No one will harm you," Dagonet assured her from her other side. "You are under our protection…"

"But you won't _be _here, will you?" she pointed out dryly.

"No," he agreed and continued. "But Arthur will inform them that you are. They will not try to harm you if they think it will anger us."

She grunted, "What are you guys? Big bad wolves?"

"Sarmatians have a bad reputation," Lancelot added bitterly. "We are the heartless, bloodthirsty demons."

She blinked, "Yeah, uh huh, and I'm the tooth fairy."

"The what?" Galahad gawked.

"Never mind."

"Ariella," Arthur called from the door to the inn.

"Coming."

Easing herself to the ground, she smiled thankfully at the other knights and went to the Commander.

"Ariella this is Alban and his wife Beatrice, they have agreed to house you here until we return for you. This is Lady Ariella Windslet, I trust she will be safe here…?"

The way he said the last bit made it sound like a hint of a threat. _Not at home anymore, Ella, _she reminded herself.

"Of course, Sir!" Beatrice, a portly woman somewhere in her early forties, nodded, affirming. "She'll be in as good a shape as when you left her, she will. Better, even!"

Arthur smiled at her, "Excellent. We shall return in four to five days."

"Arthur!" Ella called as the commander turned and started back to his horse.

He looked back at her enquiringly and was surprised when she threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Be careful. Hurry back."

He smiled gently and returned her hug, "You'll be fine. They think you are a long-time friend of mine, no harm will befall you, Ariella."

"Thank you. But… do be careful, okay?"

He grinned, "Of course."

"Tell the others I said so too, won't you? Can't have them feeling left out now, can we?" she grinned back.

He laughed, "I will. The time will pass quickly, do not fear. Until our return, M'lady."

She nodded and watched Arthur mount his stallion and lead the knights away. Ella waved and smiled at them and they waved back at her. Soon, they had turned a corner and were gone from her view. As they vanished, a chill crept up her spine.

"Come, M'Lady!" Beatrice wrapped her hands around her forearm and gave her a gentle tug. "Inside now, 'fore you catch your death. We'll get some nice warm broth into you and then have a nice bath, eh?"

Ella forced a smile at the homely face and nodded appreciatively.

"That would be lovely, thank you."

The woman gave her a look and her heart froze, wondering if she had done something wrong already.

"Artorius said you were a bit different… A Roman Lady, showing gratitude! Hah!"

Ella relaxed and took in a shaky breath, with a small smile, she allowed herself to be led inside.

**A/N: Dat da dar! All finished :) F.I.N.A.L.L.Y! Hoping the next one will be up a whole lot sooner then the time this one took to arrive :/ Apologies again for that **

**Don't forget to review and let me know what you thought!**

**~Meg xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Apologies for the lateness! End AN has details!**

**Thank you so much **_**Readerfreak10, SasoLOVE111, Lady Marek **_**and **_**Griffinesque **_**for the reviews :)**

**And as always, thank you x a million princesspomegranate for BETA-ing (:**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 8**

Beatrice was the sort of woman who could kill something by feeding it too much.

Ella had the time of her life convincing the heavy-set, force-to-be-reckoned-with that she couldn't eat anymore then the two bowls of steaming broth she had already devoured. She hadn't realised how hungry she'd been until the bowl had first been placed in front of her. But she was still human, not a horse.

"You're far too skinny." Beatrice exclaimed as she poked Ella in the ribs. "Need more meat on those bones."

For a brief moment, all Ella could think of was the story of Hansel and Gretel. Shaking her head to clear it of that very unlikely situation, she pushed the re-filled wooden bowl back towards the woman before her.

"No, thank you, I…"

"How do you expect to produce healthy sons in your condition, hmm?" she demanded.

Ella blinked.

"S-sons?"

"Yes, girl, _sons_. Every woman should be able to birth good, strong, sons. It's what husbands look for."

Ella stared at her in horror and replied, "Uh, no, no, no. I'm not having any children any time soon. I'm not married and…"

"Pah," Beatrice waved a hand dismissively. "You'll be married soon enough. To some high ranking officer no doubt; and he'll be wanting _sons_. Strong, worthy heirs. So eat yer broth."

"I-I don't know about _that_…but, really, I couldn't possibly eat anymore without exploding," she said, patting her stomach as if to prove the point. "It was delicious, though, thank you very much."

"Such an odd one," the older woman said after a moment's pause.

She sighed- Ella hoped in defeat.

"Very well, I'll have one of my girls show you to your room. Your bath should be about ready by now."

The teenager got to her feet as quickly as her skirts would allow.

"Thank you."

Muttering to herself, Beatrice took the bowl and disappeared through a door behind what Ella supposed was the bar. Tavern meant bar, didn't it? She suspected there were two floors. This ground floor seemed to be one large room, with tables and chairs laid out along either wall and into the centre, leaving only a small open space. There were windows along the front and side, and at the back of the room were a set of not so stable-looking stairs she supposed led up to where all the rooms would be. Whatever it was, it was empty apart from herself and the family.

Alban had left his wife and their guest pretty much as soon as the Knights had gone. She reasoned that this sort of thing was left to women to handle anyway. The man, tall, willowy and greying, would have other, better things to do then feed and settle a Roman lady.

"Janice!"

The bellow made Ella jump, her hand flying to her pounding heart as she recognised the voice to be Beatrice's.

"Where are you? Get your backside down here!"

Running footsteps above Ella's head made dust fall from the ceiling boards like golden glitter. She watched warily as the footsteps raced across the roof and then started down the set of stairs to her right. A girl emerged, looking to be fifteen or sixteen. She was thin, with fine dirty-blonde hair that was pulled back into a long plait. She wore a simple brown dress that was at least size too big for her and appeared to be shoe-less.

She halted when she caught sight of Ella, brown eyes wide in surprise, but then she darted behind the bar and through the door.

Ella could hear their voices, but wasn't able to make out what they were saying.

Not long after though, the girl slipped back through the door and tentatively crept over to where she stood. Wringing her hands nervously, she pushed back strands of that corn-coloured hair behind her ear.

"M'lady," she said, doing an awkward sort-of curtsy, not looking the older girl in the face. "Ma says I'm t' take you t' yer room, now."

Ella smiled, and held out her hand, "Thank you, I appreciate that. I'm El-uh, _Ariella_." _Formality_, she reminded herself.

The girl stared at her hand like she didn't know what to do with it. Blushing slightly at her mistake, Ella retracted it.

"What's yours?"

"My what, M'lady?" the girl gawked, still looking supremely confused.

"Your name…"

"Oh! I'm Janice. If you'd follow me, Ma says I'm t' help with your bath…"

Ella chuckled nervously, "Right, almost forgot about that."

Berating herself for being as _un_-Roman-like as possible, she followed Janice up the stairs, which creaked and even moved under each step. At the top, there were two hallways- one to the left and one going back to the front of the building.

Janice took the one to the left and they passed several doors until she halted in front of one on the left.

Swinging it open revealed a very simple bedroom. A single sized bed on a well-worn bed frame at one end, a small table beside the bed and another with a chair at the base of a window completed the furnishings. What _did_ surprise her was the large bath standing filled and steaming at the other end of the room.

"I hope it's t' yer liking, m'lady. Just let someone know if yer need anything," Janice said quickly, like they were lines she had rehearsed for a play that she didn't want to be in.

"It's fine, thank you," Ella smiled, stepping in and running her eyes over the bed and its faded covers.

_Made of wool, most probably._ It was so… _different_, from what she knew, so foreign. Though she knew _she_ was the foreign one here. A fact she also knew would do her the world of good to always keep in mind.

Ella hadn't realised she'd just been standing there, staring into nothing, until Janice cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Would ye like t' have yer bath now, or…?"

"Oh! Yes, I'm sorry, I…I'm just tired, I guess," Ella said, moving over to the tub to dip her fingers into the water.

It was warm… _perfect_.

"Thank you for showing me up, Janice. Would it be too much trouble to bother you for some clothes? I… lost all mine when… when we were attacked."

Ella really, _really_ hoped that that was the same tale Arthur had told them.

"And this is shockingly filthy," she added as she fingered the stained skirts absentmindedly, fleetingly wondering how much trouble she'd have been in if her drama teacher had seen the dress now. _Tones, I suspect_.

"O' course, m'lady. I'll get ye something real quick."

And with that, the girl was gone, the door closing firmly after her.

"_Okay_, then," Ella mumbled, slowly beginning to strip herself out of her dress.

_Ridiculous thing_, she thought disdainfully as it pooled at her feet and she stepped out of it. _And dresses are the thing for women, here. Fantastic._

Sliding her underwear, phone and iPod under the mattress, she slipped into the welcoming warmth with a thankful sigh.

There was nothing better than a bath to ease away the worries.

oOo

She wasn't quite sure how long she'd been in the water, slowly turning herself in a prune, but Ella was jolted back into the real world when there was a knock at the door.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she sank as low into the water as possible. "Uh, uh… I'm not decent!"

Mentally slapping herself at how ridiculous that sentence was, she held her breath.

"It's me, m'lady. Janice.," came the familiar and slightly muffled voice from behind the barrier. "I've got your clothes…"

"Oh. Well… uh…"

But before she could think of a way to reply to that, or even work out the situation, the door opened and the girl slipped inside.

Ella let out a little squeak and shrunk even further into the water.

"S-sorry, m'lady. I didn't mean to startle you…" Janice said quickly, setting down a bundle of cloth and several other items on the bed. "Are you alright?"

"I… uh… um… well…"

"Your blushing an awful lot, your face is redder then a tomato!"

Horror flashed across Ella's dirt-streaked face.

"M-m'lady, I-I didn't m-m-ean…"

"Janice, really, it's okay," Ella said, the younger girl's panic making her feel horrible. "You've done nothing wrong… I'm just not used to… to…"

She slipped one hand out of the water to gesture around before quickly sliding it back in, cheeks heating again. Understanding dawned across Janice's face, only to be quickly replaced by confusion.

"I thought Ladies always had maids an' such t' help them bathe."

"Well… yes, _usually_. But I'm… different."

_Yes, Ella,_ she thought dryly. _They get that you're different. You're digging your own grave, stupid!_

"It's alright, though," she added, hoping that she sounded more confident then she felt. "What else do you have there?"

"Ma said t' bring you these."

She held up small glass vials filled with some sort of liquid.

"Soaps t' wash your hair. Real fancy stuff, flowery smellin'. Dad brought it back with him from his last trip to the sea. We weren't allowed to use any, too expensive for us. But Nellie snuck a little anyways," the girl babbled, moving to kneel beside the tub and uncork the vials, holding them up one at a time for Ella to sniff.

The strength of the first one nearly made her eyes water, but the second wasn't as bad. When she pointed to it, Janice beamed.

"Lavender. Tha's my favourite, too."

Ella smiled at her, then tried to relax as Janice urged her to lean back and tilt her head back further. She stood and retrieved a small jug, filled it with water from the bath and poured it over Ella's head, being very careful to keep it out of her eyes.

"Who's Nellie?" Ella asked after a moments silence as Janice began to message the medieval shampoo into her hair.

"Me sister," was the soft reply. "One of."

"How many do you have?"

"Three, and two brothers. I'm the youngest girl, but I've got a lil' brother. Ma says I shoulda been a boy."

Ella chuckled, feeling herself relax under the message.

"Why's that?"

The fingers paused, then resumed like they hadn't stopped, "I ain't girly enough, Ma says. Like runnin' around and bein' outside too much."

"It's healthier for you, being outside."

"It's not where a woman should be, though. Ma says I've gotta clean meself up if I'm t' get a husband."

Ella frowned, "How old are you?"

"I'll be sixteen summers soon."

"That's awfully young to be worried about a husband, isn't it?"

"Not really. Me oldest sister, Alice, she was married to the baker's boy when she was fifteen. She's twenty now, and has a babe."

"Oh…"

"Surely the Roman ways are not so different, m'lady?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"No… I suppose not. Just, personally, I do not believe in marriage so young."

Janice sniffed, "I don't see why I needs a husband so bad either. But Ma says I do, so…"

"Yes, your mother does seem fixed on the idea of husbands and sons," Ella giggled softly.

"She would be, she still has three daughters to marry off," Janice replied dryly, rinsing the shampoo out with clean water. "Nellie will be next. She's real pretty and good with the lads. I see 'em watch her, everyone loves her."

"What about you? Do you fancy any of the lads?" she watched the younger girl stand and fetch a large towel.

She smiled when it was held out to her and Janice turned her head. Accepting it, she quickly stepped out of the tub and wrapped it around herself. Janice's cheeks coloured a dusty pink.

"Well… there is one, but he doesn't… notice me."

"What's his name?" Ella asked gently, securing the towel and wringing the excess water from her lavender-smelling tresses.

_Girls have always had boy problems, how'd you figure._

"Naval," she whispered, smiling to herself.

_Definitely crushing,_ Ella thought, grinning.

"He's the middle son of the farrier, eighteen summers, tall… green eyed… He doesn't look at me though, and anyways Ma says that middle sons won't do. The oldest gets the business see? And she wants us well cared for."

She seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts and picked up a brush, gesturing for Ella to sit on the bed.

"Why should it matter? The middle son might be a better man then the first. Don't forget that you will have to _live_ with the man you marry," Ella teased, hoping to bring the bubbly side of her back.

She liked the girl, liked the liveliness of her.

"Maybe…" she whispered. "It doesn't matter though. Look at me, tellin' you all my problems! I beg your forgiveness, m'lady-"

"I _promise _you I don't mind, Janice," Ella interrupted, sighing in contentment as the brush flowed through her damp curls. "And please, for the love of all that's holy, call me Ella. m'lady is just so… _blah_."

"Ye know," Janice said after a pause. "I've heard lots o' bad things about Roman nobility. But you are nothin' like what they say."

"Is that a good thing?" she asked, half amused, half serious.

She didn't think she _could_ act like a bitch to people who didn't deserve it.

"Yes," Janice replied straight away. "Yes, it's a good thing…Thank you for listening to me babble on."

Ella could hear the embarrassment in the words.

"Would you like your hair braided?"

"You're welcome, and no, thank you. I think I'm just going to lie down for a while. I didn't realise I was tired until that bath," she chuckled softly.

"O' course," Janice picked up the other items she had brought in and paused at the door to look back at her. "If you need anything…"

"I'll call you, I promise." Ella smiled, feeling her eyelids grow heavier.

The girl smiled and went to leave.

"Janice!"

She looked back, blinking those big eyes. "Yes?"

"Do you think, tomorrow, that you could show me around? I think that by then I could do with a walk."

Those brown eyes lit up and she nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, o' course! I can show you my favourite place down at the river, if you'd like."

Ella smiled. "I'd like that."

"Great! Well… I'll wake you for supper then?"

"Please, or even just leave it on one of the tables in here. I'll probably be so out to it that I won't hear you." she chuckled, rubbing at her eyes.

"Very well. Sleep well… Ella," she said closing the door softly behind her.

Now in the silence of the room, Ella heaved a weary sigh and fell backwards, her body moulding into the mattress, as sleep claimed her.

**A/N: Apologies again for being late! But yeah, circumstances took a turn and I didn't end up with as much free time as I'd originally thought. My Grandpa is currently sick and in hospital, so we were down visiting him for 3 days, then we've had our shearing here to do, and we've also been getting ready to go to work tomorrow. Have to leave by lunch time. Busy busy.**

**Also, the next update will be a while off, sorry guys! Where I thought I'd have next weekend off, I've just agreed to work it 'cause my boss was short of people, and I **_**am **_**the fill in. So…yes, I won't be home for 16 days…. I promise the next chapter will be up as soon as I can manage.**

**I really hoped you enjoyed this one, please let me know what you thought!**

**~Meg xx**


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